Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire COMPLETE
by Lady Lestrange
Summary: Draco, upset because Dumbasadoor cancelled Quiddich decides to enter the Tri Wizard Tournament as the Fifth Champion. See how he bests Harry Potter! Fun and funny. Includes: Moody, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, house elves, Voldemort COMPLETE
1. The Real Hogwarts Champion

DISCLAIMER: The Hogwart's Characters and Hogwart's Plot belongs to JK Rowlings. YEAH! Thanks JK 

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DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

Chapter 1

THE REAL HOGWART'S CHAMPION

By Lady Lestrange

Draco Malfoy stalked into the Slytherin Common room and flung himself onto a sofa. "I can't believe Dumb-as-a-door just cancelled Quiddich! CANCELLED. For the whole year. What are we going to do between these stupid 'tasks'. There are only three of them. There's no reason for Quiddich to be cancelled. I need to owl my father," Draco muttered.

"It will be back next year," said Greg as he searched through his bag for a chocolate frog. 

"Next year, the Nimbus 2001's will be another year older." Draco seethed. "We needed to play this year!"

Greg found the frog, crushed and melted, but he ate it anyway. He looked at the wizard card for a moment before trying to lick off the remains of chocolate. The picture, of Morgania gave him a look of total disgust and leaped away from the picture frame.

"I can't believe it." Draco got up, paced across the common room, and knocked the candy wrapper out of Greg's hand. "Are you listening to me?" Unfortunately, the wrapper still had chocolate on it and stuck to Draco's hand. With an obscene gesture, he crumpled the paper wishing it were Dumbledore's head, and stuck it in his pocket.

"Of course, I am, Draco," said Greg. "You're upset about Quiddich being cancelled. Whatta you want me to do about it."

"Nothing." Said Draco. "Just nothing."

"Too bad you're not old enough to join the Tri-Wizard Tournament," said Vincent. 

Draco froze the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

"Draco," said Vincent, "You're not old enough."

"And we're not old enough either," said Greg. "We can't put your name in the cup. So there's no point in you asking."

"Even if we did," said Greg. "You probably wouldn't be picked. There's only one champion from each school."

"Slytherins are never picked for anything," interjected Pansy as she entered the room from the girl's dorm side. "It's so unfair. Can't you get your father to do anything about that, Draco?"

Draco threw Pansy a sour look. He was sick of her always asking can't your father do this or can't your father do that, but she did have her uses. "Maybe," he said as he kicked off his shoes and lounged on the sofa again. 

He didn't even have to tell her anymore. Like an obedient little house elf, she came over to the sofa, sat down and picked up one of his feet in her large and very capable hands. She began to rub. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. There had to be a way to make this work to his advantage. There always was, he just had to think of it. "Toes, Pansy," he said. "How many times do I have to tell you, just below the toes?"

"That better, Draco?" 

"Much." But not as good as his house elf, Letty, thought Draco. Now she could do a foot massage!

"Draco," said Greg softly. "Is it OK if we leave? We have to get our homework for tomorrow."

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, Draco dismissed them to go find someone to do their homework for them. Draco shifted his weight and put his other foot in Pansy's lap. Obediently to his unspoken request, she switched feet. 

"How many older cousins do you have in Slytherin?" asked Draco.

"Loads," replied Pansy. "Why?"

"I'm trying to call up a favor."

"You helped Morag with his potions last year," suggested Pansy.

Draco remembered, but that was because he wanted to go out with Morag's sister. That favor was already called in, but Draco wouldn't tell Pansy that. "No, not him," said Draco.

There's Chamilla, said Pansy. 

Well, that was a possibility, thought Draco. She was a pretty sixth year. "Are you sure she's 17?" asked Draco. Wondering if he could manage to get a date with her as well as getting her to put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

"Positive." I went to her birthday celebration last week," said Pansy. 

"So what does she like?" asked Draco shifting his weight yet again.

"Older men," said Pansy dryly.

Draco kicked her.

"O-Oof ! What ya' kick me for?" Pansy demanded.

"Opps," he said. "Just getting comfortable." He rolled over on his stomach. "How about my neck and shoulders?" suggested Draco.

"Go to hell," said Pansy, getting up from the sofa, but Draco's hand snaked out and grabbed hers. 

"You don't want to do that," said Draco, pulling himself up to a sitting position and still holding on to her arm. "We make too good a team."

"Good for who?" asked Pansy.

Draco dug in his pocket for his wand and felt the candy paper. With a grin, he produced the wand and the paper in one instant. The paper however was growing into stems and soft purple flowers—pansies. "PANSIDIOUS!" For you," he said.

"Oh, Draco."

She moved back over to her place beside him and started to rub the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck, the flowers forgotten on the floor.

"I think Camilla will do nicely," murmured Draco into the pillow. "Is there something father could buy her that would help me to convince her to put my name in the Goblet of Fire?"

'Well she got practically everything for her birthday," said Pansy. " Even a new Firebolt.—

Maybe a flying carpet, but they're illegal.

"That's it!" said Draco.

==

A week later, Draco was patiently turning on the charm for Chamilla. She was now holding the parchment with his name and the Wizarding School in Canada in her hand, but she wasn't taking the bait. Draco recognized that she was just toying with him, because he had done the exact same thing too many times. "Do you know how many little boys, have asked me to put their name in the Goblet of Fire?" she said 

It took all Draco's control to continue to work this plan. Little boys, indeed! "But none of them was a Malfoy," said Draco.

"So."

This was starting to border on begging, and Malfoy's didn't beg. "Pansy said you didn't get everything you wanted for your birthday."

"Mostly," she replied. "My parents are nearly as rich as yours, Draco. There's nothing you have that I want." She grinned evilly. "Well, maybe a pet ferret-----"

Draco gritted his teeth. He was going to get Potter for that trick. He leaned very close to Camilla so only she could hear. "A flying carpet?" He suggested.

She shrugged, but he had already seen the look of avarice in her eyes. He smiled. A greedy Slytherin was something he knew exactly how to exploit. 

The Great Hall was already starting to fill with students for dinner. She looked around at the crowd. "I don't want anyone to think I put my name in and wasn't picked," she said. "I'll think about it."

Just then, a giggling group of Hufflepuff Seventh years walked past them. One of them, bumped into Chamilla and the piece of parchment with Draco's name on it fluttered to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood!" snapped Chamilla, and she stalked back to the Slytherin table without looking at the parchment.

"Sorry," the Hufflepuff said, and reaching down to pick up the parchment called, "You dropped this."

Chamilla was already talking to some of the Slytherins at the table, and the noise in the hall did not allow the words to carry more than a few feet from the speaker, so the Hufflepuff turned to Draco.

"Not mine," he said innocently holding up his hands in front of him. The poor Hufflepuff seemed torn between taking the parchment back to Chamilla at the Slytherin table or just leaving it on the floor.

"She was on her way to put it in the Goblet of Fire though," said Draco, "If that helps."

"Oh it does," she beamed at him, walked up to the Goblet of Fire and dropped the parchment in.

It took every ounce of self-control he had for Draco to walk nonchalantly back to the Slytherin table. His smirk was growing with every step. As he reached Chamilla, he couldn't help himself; he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Never mind about that favor. I won't need your help." He paused to let the words sink in. "I do have a flying carpet on order though, so if you ever want a ride sometime let me know. We'll work something out."

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	2. The Champions are Chosen

DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowlings. Thanks JK.

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DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 2 

Champions are chosen

Draco sat in the great hall, flanked by Vincent and Greg waiting for the announcement of the Champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He was studiously hiding his nervousness. He had schooled his face into its usual sneer that he reserved for this sort of event, and his legs were stretched out comfortably under the table. Vincent and Greg were not so calm. 

"What do you think Dumbledore will do when he finds out there are four Champions instead of three?" asked Vincent

"I just think it was bloody brilliant of you, Draco to think to use another school. Bloody Brilliant!"

Draco wished they would shut up, but he hated to put a damper on their excitement for him, but it was starting to annoy him. Nerves were starting to come up on him. They made him feel like he had swallowed a snitch. He remembered Potter doing just that in first year. Too bad he didn't strangle on the damned thing. Well, this time, Potter wouldn't even be in the running. It would feel good to have Potter rooting for him instead. "Yes, well, Potter," he thought. "You could always hope that Drumstang or the other Slytherin Champion wins, if you don't want to cheer for me." Draco didn't even consider Beaubaton.

They had called the first Champion:

Viktor Krum

As a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall, Viktor rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumb-as a- door. He turned right along the staff table and, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. 

Big surprise thought Draco the quiddich star got picked as a champion. Perfect. When he won, it would look all the better to have beaten Krum.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff , so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting had died down. Now everyone's attention was focused on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it propelled by the flames. 

The next champion was Fleur Delacour! Really! This was going to be a pushover!

When Fleur disappeared into the side chamber silence fell on the Hall. A silence so thick with excitement Draco could all most taste it. The Hogwarts champion was next.

Cedric Diggory

The Hufflepuff table burst into applause. The Slytherin table sat flabbergasted. How could there be a Hufflepuff champion!! The Hufflepuffs hadn't won anything in years—quiddich cup or house cup.

"Cedric Diggory!" thought Draco. "If he hadn't put his name into the goblet, the entire reputation of Hogwarts would be resting on that empty-headed, pretty boy. Even the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had to see how hopeless that was. 

The applause had died down and Dumbledore was giving his little announcement. Ludo Bagman was standing by anxiously awaiting his turn to speak, when the Goblet began spouting flames again—

Here it comes, thought Draco. He checked his robes to be sure they weren't wrinkled. They were immaculate as always.

The parchment flew out of the Goblet. 

Come on –come on—read it thought Draco.

And Dumbledore did read it: "Harry Potter."

"What?"

The hall filled with what sounded like angry bees buzzing. Everyone started whispering to their neighbor as the judges tried to figure out what to do with the extra champion. They sent Harry out of the room with the other Champions while Dumbledore tried to explain why whomever the Goblet choose had to compete. 

Draco was crushed. Harry Potter must have done the exact same thing he did. He had to have put his name in under a different Wizarding School. If it was the Canadian School, then the Goblet chose Harry over him. It couldn't have. He was better than Harry Potter. He was a Malfoy. Harry's mother was a mudblood for gosh sakes. Of course, seeing that the goblet had picked Diggory. Draco wondered if the thing had any sense at all.

Just then, the Goblet of Fire started to spit flame again. The judges turned to look. 

"What iz Theze?" Madam Maxim complained. "Another von?"

Dumbledore caught this parchment, and looked nervously at the judges. "Draco Malfoy," he said and the Slytherin table broke into excited applause. The closest Slytherins congratulated Malfoy and wished him luck. 

"Luck has nothing to do with it," said Draco.

In the front of the room, while Draco was accepting his congratulations, the judges pounced on Dumbledore with angry questions and accusations. This was ten times worse than when Harry Potter's name came out of the goblet. One extra Champion could have been a mistake, although they doubted it—but two extra Champions from Hogwarts were an abomination. 

"Are you done, Dumbledore?" sneered Karkaroff "Or should we wait to see who the Ravenclaw Champion is?"

Dumbledore finally calmed the judges long enough for him to call Draco to the front of the room. Draco strode up to the stage that had been prepared like he was royalty. The roar of the applause from Slytherin and indeed from some of the Ravenclaw students too, was heartening. He held his head high and smiled a genuine smile at his admirers. 

Dumbledore directed him to the room where the Champions were supposed to wait. The tension in that room rivaled the tension in the Great Hall. Viktor Krum was scowling at Harry, until Draco came into the room. Then he turned his scowl toward Draco. 

"Vat iz theze? Another lettel boy?" Fleur complained. 

Draco glanced at Potter who was standing resignedly in the corner trying to ignore them. Well, Draco thought, as long as she considered him a little boy, he wouldn't have to worry about her turning on her veela charms, would he? That was a good thing.

He tried to shut out her whining. It was getting on his nerves and if she called him a little boy one more time, he thought he would curse her. That wouldn't do, would it? The Champions weren't supposed to curse each other--yet. He was probably in trouble already for putting his name in the Goblet, but at least what ever they did to him, they would have to do to Potter. His father had assured him that if the Goblet chose him he would be bound to compete, but his father had little expectations that Draco would pull it off. Just like the veela, his father thought him a little boy. Well, he was wrong.

There was a sound of scurrying feet, and Ludo Bagman was congratulating Harry and then Draco and the other Champions. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and the two judges from the other schools, Madam Maxim and Professor Karkaroff, entered next. Dumbledore asked Harry and then Draco if they had passed the Age line and put their names in the Goblet. Both Draco and Harry answered no. "Did you ask an older student to put your name in?"

"Or force an older student to put your name in?" added McGonagall glaring.

"Don't blame Draco. It's no one's fault but Potters," said Snape. "He's been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—"

"Professor Snape," said McGonagall angrily.

  
"An older student did not put--my name—in--for me," said Draco carefully. 

Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet, which lasted about two seconds, before the whining started again. Draco never thought he'd have anything in common with Potter, but standing here listening to these imbeciles argue when there was nothing they could do to change what names had come out of the Goblet was pointless. At last, Dumb-as-a door, got that across to them. He told them the rules of the Goblet of Fire and Ludo Bagman as well as Barty Crouch repeated the rules. Finally, Karkaroff left with Viktor and Madam Maxim started out with her arm around Fleur. 

The Great Hall was deserted now, the candles had burned down and the pumpkins smiled wickedly at them.

Cedric accused Harry. "So…tell me… How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," Harry said, but Draco could see that Cedric didn't believe him. He didn't even bother to ask Draco, He just strode away, but Draco ignored him. 

He was listening to the stream of French coming from Fleur. He heard the words once again: " little boy."

With a quick flick of his wand, a pig's tail appeared out of the back of Fleur's robes. Harry caught the movement and stifled a laugh. Draco didn't think it was that funny. 

Fleur turned, her hand going to her backside. "You horrid boys! Vat have you done?"

"Nothing," said Harry holding up his hands in his defense.

"We're just little boys, remember?" added Draco, his wand now safely back in his pocket.

Fleur turned and glared in the direction of the retreating Cedric.

==

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	3. Purebloods, Mudbloods and Beetles

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. Thanks to the wonderful JK Rowlings.

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DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

CHAPTER 3

PUREBLOOD, MUDBLOODS, AND BEETLES

When Draco got back to the Slytherin Common room, the party was in full swing. Vincent handed him a butterbeer and Pansy laid claim to his arm after kissing him full on the mouth. "You are awesome!" she crooned in his ear. 

Warrington came over to congratulate him. "If it wasn't me who was chosen, at least we have a Slytherin to cheer for, I'd hate to waste the whole year cheering for Cedric Diggory or Harry Potter. Congratulations, Draco. If there's anything I can do—"

"There is," Draco interrupted. "And not just you." He raised his voice. "I have an announcement," he called. Slowly the Common room quieted, but some of the Slytherins were already having too much fun to quiet down. "A silencing charm, please," said Draco. Pansy, Vincent, Greg and Morten Warrington all took out their wands and chose a portion of the room.

"Mutus!" the five of them called and the common room dropped into relative silence. 

"I have an announcement," said Draco and he removed his portion of the silencing charm. He didn't want to make anyone angry at him, when he needed their help. The others followed suit and even though the charm was removed, the room still stayed relatively quiet for Draco to speak. 

"First of all," He grinned at them. "It feels really good to have a Slytherin Champion. You'd have hated to have to cheer for Potter or Diggory."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"After all Slytherin is the foundation of Hogwarts!"

"Who put your name in?" someone called

"Hufflepuff," replied Draco. "Three cheers for Hufflepuff—they're such good little house elves."

Cheers and laughter.

"Now, Dumb-as-a-door just told us, that the first task is to be secret. We have to see how we fair facing the unknown."

"You get enough practice at that just walking into Slytherin House," someone called, causing laughter to pulse through the group.

Draco grinned. "Our challenge is to find out if Dumb-as-a-door, can keep a secret from Slytherin house? Can he do it?"

"No!" called a few of the Slytherins who knew what Draco wanted.

"I'm not convinced."

"NO!"

"The first task is set for, November 24, and as I understand it, the Tri Wizard Tournament has a long history of cheating. It's a tradition. And haven't your parents all told you the importance of Tradition!

Cheers

"The others schools will obviously cheat, even if Dumb-as-a-door doesn't have the guts. So wherever there is a Beauxbatons or Drumstrang student sneaking around, I expect a Slytherin to be there sneaking along side them, right?"

Cheers.

"Remember," Draco said. "I can't ask for help from my teachers—but you can. And if I happen to overhear your conversation—well—that's not my fault."

Sniggers and giggles.

"No one beats Slytherin House," proclaimed Draco. "And for those who help me—I always remember—my friends."

"Hey, Draco," someone yelled. "What are we going to do with the prize money?"

"Well, let's just say, I won't have to Owl home for party supplies for awhile."

The clapping and cheering escalated as Draco settled back with his butterbeer and Pansy. He realized that all he had to do was show up. As usual, his house would do most of the work for him. He loved Slytherin House. He wondered if Potter was having a good time at his party or if he was still trying to convince everyone that he didn't put his name in the Goblet. No doubt Cedric Diggory was already in bed asleep. 

.

Slytherins kept coming up to congratulate Draco. A few more girls gathered around him, much to Pansy's dismay and Draco's delight.

Some Slytherins asked Draco for the exact words of the rules so they could find the loopholes. 

Some others were making a schedule to follow the champions 24/7. Others were arguing over who got to follow which Champion. Obviously, Fleur was the number one pick. Several duels broke out to decide the winner.

Draco hadn't let his friends in on one secret: he was exempt from end of the year exams because he was a Champion. 

Life was good, and about to get better.

==

Draco awoke late the next morning and was rushed, but he still managed to startle even himself with his good looks. After all, the first class was Care of Magical Creatures and the blast ended skrewts were messy creatures, especially since that idiot Hagrid decided they needed to be walked. Much as he pretended to hate them, the thought of 'pets' that could burn, sting, bite and suck blood all at once, appealed to his dark side. Maybe he could get one for Camilla instead of a ferret. The thought brought a smirk to his lips. 

The day proceeded well from there, since some of the Slytherins had made badges with his name and face on them. He wondered where they got the picture. It was a surprisingly good one, with a genuine smile. All of the Slytherins had the badges and his housemates were working on getting some of the Ravenclaws to wear them. He even offered one to the Mudblood. Ha!

By the time Draco walked into Potions class, he thought he couldn't feel any better. He was wrong. Potter, being his usual annoying self, thought that he could best Draco in a duel. Nothing could have pleased Draco more than a little wand practice with Scarface. He wondered if he could possibly curse both Potter and the Mudblood. He thought he could do it, but he wasn't SURE if he was THAT fast. Knowing that hurting the Mudblood would hurt Harry more than if the curse was on him, Draco ducked and aimed right for Hermione. "Densaugeo—" The teeth were priceless! He wondered if her Mudblood dentist parents could fix those! If only Greg would learn to duck, the moment would have been perfect. 

Even Professor Snape enjoyed the little show. Draco could have flew circles without a broom when Snape looked at the Mudblood's teeth and said he saw 'no difference.' 

After the Gryffindor's had entered the Potions classroom, Draco caught a hint of a smile on Snape's lips. Yes, even if his father wasn't proud of him, Draco knew that his potions teacher, his mentor and his friend was proud. Some things just didn't need to be discussed. You just knew. 

Something else that Draco, just knew, was that the friendly relationship between Potter and the Weasel was strained. He didn't butt in with his usual ferocity when Potter decided to duel him. He knew it wasn't because Weasley had suddenly obtained some good sense. Perhaps it was because the Weasel didn't believe Potter when he said that he didn't put his own name in the Goblet of Fire. Oh, well, thought Draco without sympathy, it must be rough to have to live up to all that Gryffindor purity. 

It was just his luck too that Creevy came to get the Champions for pictures in Professor Snape's class. 

"Sir," Draco protested. "I've been in these robes all day. I need to change them before I get any pictures."

Snape nodded his approval, but as Draco left the room, he heard Snape telling Potter to finish some part of his potion before he left. Potter ran his fingers through his already messy hair.

Draco hurried to his room and refreshed his robes, combed his hair and reapplied his hair gel. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he went up to find the other Champions and the press. Potter was sitting in a broom closet with Rita Skeeter while she was taking notes with her quick quotes quill. She started to ask Draco a few questions—just to contrast with Potter—she explained. 

Draco gave her just the contrasting points that he wanted her to write, and then with one of his most angelic smiles he said, "Remember to get this exactly right, or my father will squash you—like a bug."

She was not pleased, but he was certain that the article would be to his liking.

==

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	4. Draco Means Dragon

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Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire

By Lady Lestrange

CHAPTER 4

Draco means Dragon

On the Saturday, before the first task, November 21, Draco planned to go to Hogsmeade with some of his friends. He seemed to have collected quite a lot of them since he was the Hogwart's Champion. Yes in his mind, he was the ONLY Hogwart's Champion. Diggory and Potter were anything but champion material. Draco hoped he could enjoy a few hours of fun at the Three Broomsticks, but truthfully, he was getting nervous. It was only a week away from the first task and none of his Slythy spies had discovered what the task was yet. 

What they had discovered though was that Harry Potter had a crush on the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. It was an interesting bit of information. Draco wasn't sure what to do with it yet, but it would soon prove more interesting if it was up to him. Now, if only he knew what the task was going to be . . .

Early on the morning of November 21, a tapping on his window awakened Draco. He let the school owl into his room and opened a cryptic note that said simply, "Dragons". Well, he thought with a little shiver of fear that wasn't going to contribute to a relaxing day at Hogsmeade. On the other hand, maybe it was a good omen—if he believed in that sort of thing—after all, his name meant dragon. He tried to keep his optimistic attitude.

Before lunchtime on the Twenty-first, Draco knew that there were five dragons: A Hungarian Horntail, a Common Welsh Green, A Chinese Fireball, a Swedish Short Snout and a Norwegian Ridgeback. It wasn't hard to guess that each of the Champions would be given a dragon to fight. Draco was a bit worried.

He was sitting in the Common room reading a book called: Dragonslayer: Tactics and Terrors while waiting for Pansy so that they could go to Hogsmeade. He had just finished reading that dragons were perpetually hungry and would eat anything within striking distance if they could swallow it. He was starting to feel a little sick, when Warrington entered. "Wanna go see the real thing?" he asked. 

I don't really think so thought Draco, but it wouldn't do to let Slytherin House know how afraid he was. Aloud he said: "I've been trying to think of how to do that myself. The dragons have to be guarded."

"Well, the ones that are being used for the Tri-Wizard tournament are guarded, but not all the dragons in the world are guarded. We've figured out we could do it in one apparition and a couple of portkeys. That is if you trust my apparition skills."

Draco looked at MortenWarrington. He may not have taken his apparition test yet, but he had been a Death Eater for the past three years, at least. "Where are we apparating to?" asked Draco. 

"London. We could have seen them all in Romania, but I've never apparated there and there's no portkey. London's the best bet. From London, we can take a portkey to the Magical Monsters Zoo in Norway. Dress warmly. The weather there is nasty right now. Snow and freezing rain according to Milllicent. That's where we see the Hungarian Horntail, Swedish Short Snout and Norwegian Ridgeback. We need to leave within the hour to get finished before dark. The zoo closes at dusk. From there, we take another portkey to Tibet where we have a few more hours of daylight. They have an exhibition of a Common Welsh Green and a Chinese Fireball. Then we apparate back to the Forbidden Forest, just off Hogwarts grounds. You'll miss supper. I told Pansy to be sure that she brings you something to eat.

Draco nodded. "Let me get a heavier cloak," he said, and taking the dragonslayer book up to his dorm room, he hurriedly prepared to go with Mort Warrington to see the dragons. As he was ready to leave, he noticed a small piece of parchment that had been slipped under the door. It said: "Nesting mothers. Get egg." Oh fine! Draco thought in exasperation. Just what I need: hungrier dragons. 

The dragons at the zoo, were huge disappointments to Draco. Although they were big, they didn't seem terribly smart. Their magic of course and their thick hides guarded them from most simple spells, but if he didn't have to kill them, Draco could think of several spells that would work, including, according to Warrington, Avada kedavra, but he didn't think he'd get good marks with that one. He'd probably lose points if he killed it. He could use a charming spell, or perhaps blind it although he'd have to combine that one with a numbing spell to keep it from stomping about in pain. 

The Chinese Fireball that he and Warrington tried the crucious curse on just about ripped through the enclosure in Tibet, so he knew he didn't want to cause the dragon any discomfort. They didn't react well to pain at all. 

He thought of transfiguring himself into something small and fast, but that wouldn't work. A bird or a bug wouldn't be able to hold the egg—unless it was an owl. No, thought Draco, an owl may be too slow. A falcon may work better, and be better equipped to hold the egg. Of course, he never transformed himself into a falcon. Too bad McGonagall was the transfiguration teacher. She certainly wouldn't help him. Perhaps Snape would give him a potion that did the same thing and he could pretend to transfigure himself. Yes. That would work. Not only that, it would have to improve his transfiguration grade when McGonagall saw him. Maybe this year he could beat the Mudblood.

While Hagrid, Harry Potter, Madam Maxim, and Karkaroff were chasing around the grounds at midnight that night, Draco was sipping a glass of butterbeer with Camilla and trying to decide if she was worth taking for a ride on his new magic carpet. He decided that she was, and he spent a very enjoyable Sunday with her. After which, he performed a glamour charm on her, which gave her very beady eyes, whiskers and a white furry face. It only lasted for an hour, but her reaction was priceless.

==

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	5. Draco's Unlikely Helpers

Disclaimer: All references to Draco, Harry and JK's wonderful Harry Potter Books belongs to JK Rowlings.

Thanks JK

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange 

Chapter 5

Draco's Unlikely Helpers

When he returned to his dorm room, he had twenty messages that told him that both Fleur and Krum knew about the dragons. It was a good thing that Draco was taking this seriously. Neither of the other Hogwarts contestants—he refused to call Scarface and Pretty Boy champions—seemed to be making much effort. There were several more notes with suggestions about how to get past the dragons. None of the ideas seemed as good as the one he already had. He just had to see Professor Snape about the potion. He took Vincent and Greg with him before breakfast and headed to Professor Snape's office. He couldn't trust Vincent and Greg to do this correctly, so he had to oversee it. 

"Professor Snape," Draco began. "Vincent and Greg here wanted to know if there is a potion that could make someone be able to fly—uh—fly fast."

"I'm quite sure there is," His mentor said, "But I think they'd rather learn about the Drought of Sleeping Death potion.

Draco knew that the Drought of the Sleeping Dead, was one of Snape's favorite potions. He wasn't sure though that it was the best potion for the dragon. What if the judges thought he killed the thing? He would lose points. He told Snape his thoughts on the subject.

"Not a problem, Mr. Malfoy." said Snape in that slow drawling voice of his. "Dragons are huge animals. To actually make them look dead, you would need to feed them about 3 liters of the potion, and I'm not sure they would cooperate in drinking that much. This little bit will just help put the dragon in a sounder sleep when used with the Sleeping Charm. Without the Sleeping Charm, you will only have about 10 seconds when the dragon is inattentive due to the Draught of the Sleeping Death Potion."

Draco nodded. It sounded like a good plan. "I think Greg and Vincent would love to learn that potion," said Draco.

"Huh?" said Greg.

Draco sighed. "They were born with doses of the Sleeping Death in their mother's milk ," he quipped. "Their brains haven't awakened yet!"

"Would you like to learn this potion?" Draco asked Vincent slowly as if he were talking to a three-year-old

.

"UH- no, you said--"

Draco kicked him. "He would love to know," Draco said with a look of exasperation.

Professor Snape opened one of his potion books to the Drought of Sleeping Death Potion.

Draco leaned in over Professor Snape's shoulder to read: --a powerful potion. Just a few drops and creatures as big as –dragons would be fast asleep in an instant—without the annoying snores and bursts of flames that were possible with sleeping spells. However, dragons metabolized any potion relatively quickly, which meant, you only had about 60 seconds of sleep per liter of potion. A few drops in a vial were only enough to make the dragon blink. Hopefully, Snape was right and it would be enough.

"This potion is pretty complecated," said Snape. "But I've just decided to allow my seventh year Slytherins to brew it under my supervision—for extra credit—tomorrow—7:00--if you would like to sit in—well—I certainly can't stand in the way of a student's quest for knowledge.."

"Thank you, Sir. I'd like that very much," said Draco and he headed up to breakfast.

After his first period, one of his fellow Slytherins, a second year that he didn't know, caught him in the hall. "Potter knows," he said, "And he just told Diggory."

"Why in the bloody hell did he do that?" spat Draco.

"Stupidity, I guess. He was muttering something about not wanting his worst enemy to face the dragons without knowing—" 

"I notice he didn't tell me," snapped Draco irritated. Then he thought of something. "You're sure Potter already knows?"

"Absolutely. He also knows there are five of them. He saw them."

"Potter and his bloody invisibility cloak!" said Draco. "Ok. Thanks."

"Good luck, Draco."

How many times did he have to tell them that luck had nothing to do with it?

Draco looked for Potter at lunch, but he wasn't there. Neither was the Mudblood. Perhaps they were practicing some spell. That seemed likely. The mudblood had to teach Potter how to get past the dragons. 

Obviously, his brains leaked out of that scar and he needed the Mudblood to hold his hand—his wand hand--

Draco finally caught up with Potter as he headed for Divination. Draco had made a special trip up to the tower to find him. "Potter," he said seriously. "I've been looking for you all day—"

"Whatta ya want Malfoy?" Potter snapped.

"I wanted to tell you what the first task is—"snapped Draco right back. "But maybe you don't want to know. I wouldn't want my worst enemy to meet up with them unprepared—but I guess, I was wrong. You and your goody, goody, Gryffindor sense of honor. You can go ahead and be the only Champion that doesn't know. I-hope-they-fry-you."

"Draco," began Potter "I'm sorry—"

Draco gave him a slow appraising look—up and then down-- "You certainly are—" he said haughtily. "They're dragons."

"Thanks." 

Draco turned and hurried away down the stairs. He had just insured that Potter would tell him anything he knew about the NEXT task. And made Potter feel like a guilty heel for not telling him this time when he thought everyone else except Draco knew about the dragons. And it cost him absolutely nothing. It was worth being a few minutes late for class.

==

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	6. The First Task

Disclaimer: All things that look like they belong to JK Rowlings, do

Thanks JK

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

The First Task

Chapter 6

Tuesday seemed to fly by. It was time for the task and Professor Snape led him to the tent. On the way, Snape asked him if he had everything he needed. 

Draco nodded. The tiny vial of the Sleeping Death was in his pocket. It was wrapped in a glob of mud and covered with blood. According to his reading, his spies reconnaissance and what he saw when he visited the dragons, all of them were perpetually hungry, especially nesting mothers. They instinctively ate anything that smelled like prey that came into attacking distance. Draco's plan was to throw the mud ball, which the Dragon would probably eat. The judges would think he was just getting the dragon to look at him, so he could do the sleeping spell. Draco was good enough at the sleeping charm that he could have probably done it without the potion, but a back up plan was always a good idea. Anyway, the potion was considerably faster than the sleeping charm. 

"Mr. Bagman will tell you the procedure." Said Professor Snape.

"Thank you Professor," said Draco and he entered the tent. All of the other champions were there except Potter. 

As soon as Potter arrived, Mr. Bagman gave them their directions. "First," he said, "I will be letting each of you pick a model of what you will face from this bag. You have to get the golden egg."

"Ladies first," Bagman said offering the bag to Fleur. She drew the Welsh Green, with a number 2 around its neck.

Krum pulled out the Chinese Fireball with a number three around its neck.

Cedric pulled the Swedish Short snout with a number one.

Only two left, thought Draco—the Norwegian Ridgeback, the biggest or the Horntail, the most deadly.

Potter picked the Horntail with the number 4, leaving Draco with the Ridgeback and the number 5.

Then it started. Bagman left to commentate the event. The cheers of the crowd told Draco that Cedric Diggory was face to face with the dragon. The oo's and ahh's just made him more nervous. Suddenly he heard a yelp. Was that a dog? What on earth had Cedric done? Then the clapping told him whatever it was it was, at last, successful.

Fleur's attempt was very quiet at first. Draco wondered if she was using a sleeping spell too. He hoped not. Then the crowd started to tell their story. Gasping and crying out! That meant that if she did do a sleeping spell, it didn't work very well. The dragon had awakened—or breathed flame in its sleep. At last the applause told him that it was over and Fleur had retrieved her egg, but it had taken her quite a while.

Moments after Krum entered the enclosure, the dragon screamed in pain. Draco knew exactly what that sounded like. 

"Draco," Harry said hesitantly. "Thanks for telling me—"

Draco could feel the vibrations of the earth as the giant animal stomped around in agony.

"About the Dragons." 

Draco knew which spell Krum had done. He had tried the blinding spell. Conjunctivitis. It was a mistake.

A spattering of applause told that Krum was finished.

"Sure." Said Draco. "Good Luck." 

Potter went out of the tent and Draco was left alone.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Draco muttered to himself.

"Acchio Firebolt!" he heard Potter yell.

Well that was certainly a simple spell. There was a long silence. Draco wondered if the broom was coming. Maybe it wouldn't. He sneered. That would be a nice ending to Potter's time as a champion. Draco heard the cheering. Apparently, the Firebolt had arrived. 

Draco was glad that he decided against using that same spell to get his broom. His Nimbus would look sick next to the Firebolt. He really had to talk to his father about a new broom.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman "Are you watching this Mr. Krum?"

Draco started to pace. How fast could he do the sleeping spell? 

A moan from the crowd followed by cheers and then, Bagman saying: "Our youngest Champion is the fastest to get the egg."

It was Draco's turn. He walked to the enclosure as Bagman was announcing his name. The Norweigian Ridgeback, apparently rattled by the other champions' antics, immediately reared up on her hind legs and beat her wings like some giant bat.

In that split second, Draco raised his wand to begin the sleeping spell, and changed his mind. The golden egg was clearly visible beneath the Dragon's legs.

"Acchio egg!" he cried, and the egg flew to his hand before the Dragon had a chance to react.

"Oh Dear," said Mr. Bagman. "I think Mr. Malfoy was so quick to get the egg that I missed it."

Draco couldn't quite wipe the smirk off of his face, as he joined the other Champions—not that he wanted to. 

Three of them had sustained injuries and he found out that Krum's dragon had smashed half of the eggs with her stomping around. He was the only one that had gotten his egg without mishap, and he did it in just under 5 seconds. He didn't even break a sweat. He would look great for the pictures in the Daily Profit.

He was in first place, with Potter and Krum tied for second. 

Rita Skeeter was asking Potter for a quick word.

"Yeah you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Good-bye."

"Some people have no respect," Draco said mildly. "You might question his upbringing: muggles—giants—"

Rita Skeeter turned a smiling face toward Draco. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, you are the undeniable winner in the contest so far. You made it look so easy—"

"Yes," said Draco. "As easy as squishing a bug."

"I quite understand," she said nervously.

"Good," replied Draco, posing for his picture. "This is what you can write."

==

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	7. Congrats from Mum and Dad

Disclaimer: If it looks like it belongs to JK Rowlings, it probably does.

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 7

Congrats from Mum and Dad

"Draco, son," Lucius Malfoy held out his hand to his son. "Congratulations."

"You were wonderful, dear," said Narcissa. "You made that Potter boy look like a complete fool. After he did all that silly flying around--Everyone wondered if he did it just for show—achio egg, indeed." She kissed him coolly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Father. Mother."

"Let's walk," said Lucious. "There's something we must discuss." They walked down toward the lake where the crowd was sparser. Draco was worried. This sort of attitude usually boded ill in the Malfoy household. But maybe—

"Is it about the Dark Lord?" Draco asked softly. "May I—"his voice was choked with excitement. "May I take the Dark Mark?"

"No. Said Lucious. The Dark Lord's business has nothing to do with you. All you need to do is stay out of the way.

"I want to help—"

"We know you do, Sweetheart, but you're much too young," said Narcissa. "Listen to your father. He knows best."

Draco cringed. He hated when she talked like that. It reminded him of –Pansy—Could I rub your feet, Draco? Except that his mother was prettier than Pansy.

"You can help," his father said. "You need to lose this Tournament."

"What!"

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"You don't question orders of the Dark Lord."

"Well, you're not the Dark Lord," spat Draco. He turned on his heel and headed back to Slytherin House, his robes billowing out behind him. Any minute he expected something to hit him in the back—anything from jelly legs to crucio—but nothing came.

==

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	8. Slytherin Ambition Renewed

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DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

SLYTHERIN AMBITION RENEWED

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowlings—

To my reviewers: Thanks to all of you… If you like this story please read my other fic. Even though it has a Harry Potter title instead of a Slytherin one, be reminded that the author is totally Slytherin—You do know the Lestranges, don't you?

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE EMAIL YOUR FRIENDS THIS LINK

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Now as far as Draco winning the tournament and hurting Harry Potter, well if you read JK's version, then you know the "present" in store for the first person who touches the cup—Of course, we know that but Draco doesn't. His father never tells him anything….

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Slytherin Ambition Renewed

Draco was shaking when he finally entered Slytherin House. The party was in full swing and Pansy came forward to hang on his arm. He pushed her away.

"Congratulations," called half dozen different people.

What's in the egg?" asked Greg Goyle.

"Open it," urged Vincent.

"Go ahead," Draco spat. "You open it." He tossed the egg to Vincent and headed up to his room. He flung himself across his bed. He was so angry he was ready to explode. He needed to curse something. He looked under his bed for spiders. That was one advantage to living in the dungeon. You could usually find some little bug to practice crucio on—but not today—today his anger just simmered and swelled.

"Why should he lose the tournament? No answer. Just because I say so. Well that wasn't good enough."

A tapping at the door caught his attention. "Go away," he shouted.

"It's Pansy."

"Go away."

After a while, he got tired of simmering in his self-pity. He did just fine without his parents around for nine months out of the year. He didn't really need their approval. He had the approval of his whole house, and they were waiting for him. What was he doing in his room when there was a party going on in the common room?"

He pulled himself out of his depression and headed for the common room. The party was a little more subdued than the first one had been when he got the role of Champion. Everyone was wondering where he was—and why he was upset. He tried to get the party atmosphere back, but it was useless. Too many Slytherins had already gone to bed or just wandered off to their private business. Mostly, they were private people, only coming together for a cause or a leader. When Draco failed to show up, the glue that kept them focused on the task at hand, came undone. He wondered if this would hurt his chances to complete the second task. He had a feeling that he might be more on his own with this one, unless he could rekindle the momentum. It was his own fault. He had let it lapse. Damn his father.

Vincent handed him the egg.

"Did you open it? Any idea what it is?" Draco asked. 

"No," said Vincent, "But I think Camilla might know."

"She might be faking too," suggested Greg. "She said it sounds familiar."

Draco cracked open the egg, which screeched unmercifully. He closed it again.

"No one had any ideas?" asked Draco.

"None."

Draco sipped his butterbeer, and cradled the egg.

"Everyone still following the other champions 24/7?" he asked.

"Yes," said Vincent. "We reminded them."

"Morten", Draco asked. "How old were you when you first apparated?"

"Twelve," he answered.

"Teach me," said Draco.

Morten Warrington nodded.

It wasn't much later when they went to bed, but Draco lay awake for a long while wondering what it would take to get his father to trust him. Of course, trust in Sytherin House was hard to come by—still—he was his father's only son. Couldn't Lucious see the man Draco wanted to become? Draco rolled over and frustrated, buried his head in his pillow. 

It smelled like—Someone—Spicy—Cinnamon. He smiled remembering. Who wore that perfume? As soon as he remembered her name, he would have Crabbe or Goyle go and fetch her. Being a Champion did have its advantages. 

Even Potter seemed to have gained a feminine following Draco noted-- not that Potter had any idea what to do with them. Draco put that thought out of his mind. It was positively obscene that he should think of Potter now.

He sniffed the pillow again. Sheryl or Shirley or Shelly. He couldn't remember her name, but he remembered other things. Yes. He remembered now. He remembered very well, he thought with a slow smirk. She was an Avery. Fifth year Slytherin. She would do just fine. 

==

Several weeks after the first task, Draco still didn't' know what the second task was. He could barely leave the egg open long enough to listen to it. No one else had a clue what it was either and his spies were quite certain that none of the other Champions had a clue either. 

Draco's apparation lessons were progressing well. He had apparated several times with Morten Warrington and each time, Mort let Draco control more and more of the move. Of course he was only moving a few meters, but it was still a start and Draco hadn't left any body parts behind. Splinched. Draco shuddered. He wanted to be ready when the Dark Lord was ready to accept him into the ranks of Death Eaters. He was tired of waiting for his parent's permission. Why didn't they see what he could do for the Dark Lord here at Hogwarts? Why couldn't they see he was no longer their little boy? Why couldn't they see the man he had become?

+++

Draco came back from Care of Magical Creatures feeling a bit betrayed. Yes, he thought, the sense of Gryffindor honor was quite over-rated, either that or Harry Potter was a liar.

Draco had heard Hagrid ask quite plainly—well as plain as the old coot was able to speak—"Ye got yer clue all worked out?"

And Harry's answer a mumbled "Yeah. I think so."

He knows, thought Draco hotly. He knows, and even though I told him about the Dragons, he hasn't told me. Not only that, who was supposed to be watching Potter? Probably they had sneeked off to watch Fleur instead. It was grossly unfair for her to be a Veela.

When he got back to Slytherin House there would be hell to pay.

Just before dinner, he walked through the entire Slytherin House—well not all of it—Pansy did the girls dorms—and charmed every room door to lock and flash: Go to the Common Room, when someone tried to enter it. Since no one got into their rooms, it was easy to have a little impromptu meeting in the Slytherin Common room. 

"Why has Harry Potter found out about the egg before any of you?" Draco asked, his voice booming with the sonorous charm. "Who was supposed to be watching him?" Several Slytherins weakly raised their hands. 

"I really don't think he knows," said Blaise Zambini. Just yesterday, he was telling the Mudblood that he had lots of time to figure it out. Even Weasley told Granger to lighten up. He had time. He's more interested in finding a date for the Yule Ball, and Cho Chang is already going with Cedric Diggory.

"Why hasn't Potter asked Ginny Weasley?" questioned Draco. "She's more of a boot licker than Colon Creevy."

"He asked Cho Chang," spat one of the Slytherins. "She shot him down."

"But did you see the look on her face?" said Blaise. "She was red as Weasley. 

"Oh no, you didn't see Weasley when he asked Fleur Delecour," said the Slytherin who was assigned to follow Fleur this week. 

Snorts and sniggers.

"I'm sure Potter will be able to choose someone to go to the dance with him," said another Slytherin. "It's getting really tedious having to wade through his groupies."

Draco snorted. "Potter?"

"Mostly just Gryffindors and a couple of Hufflepuffs," said Pansy. "No one important."

"So all you've learned is about who is going to the Yule dance," said Draco dryly. "I don't care about the Yule dance. I don't care about Harry Potter's love life. I care about winning this tournament. Don't you have any other news for me?"

Silence. 

The Gryffindor password is "banana fritters" one Slytherin ventured.

No it isn't said another. It changed today. It's "Fairy Lights."

"Where do they get these stupid passwords?" commented Draco.

No one had an answer to that question.

  
"So who are you taking to the Yule ball?" one of the girls called to Draco.

He smiled at her. She was a pretty third year. He knew she had asked to draw attention to herself, but he wasn't making any commitments right now."

"That depends upon who brings me some good information that I can use to my advantage in this tournament," he said sharply. He paused to allow that information to sink in. A few of the girls started to whisper in excitement. 

"I'm beginning to think the Hufflepuff pretty boy is going to figure out the clue before the whole bunch of you. And you call yourselves Slytherins! Do I have to do this myself?"

The silence was broken by a soft shuffling of feet and then a single Slytherin clearing his throat as if to speak and then apparently he thought better of it. 

Draco glared at the lot of them. His cool gray eyes seemed to have turned them to stone.

Pansy had stolen behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. He recognized the feel of her long, strong fingers on his bare neck. "We're Slytherins," she whispered, and then louder she said. "We're Slytherins, and no one beats Slytherin." Now that she had everyone's attention she said with sudden vehemence, "Can you live with being beaten by a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff? I can't!"

A few of those in the common room murmured in horror, renewed enthusiasm in their faces, but the group of girls had already exited the common room. Pansy watched them go with narrowed eyes. When she turned back to Draco, he was grinning at her. "Think you are going to the Yule Dance with me?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said, pulling his head down to hers and kissing him as if laying claim to him.

==

Author's note: We all know that Pansy goes to the Yule Ball with Draco The question is, what does she do to gain that honor…..Next chapter will tell…..Please review and I will return the favor with your fics.

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==


	9. Pansy's Plot

DISCLAIMER: Draco and all of his cohorts belong to the wonderful JK Rowlings. THANKS JK!

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 9

Pansy's Plot

Pansy had every intention of being Draco's date for the Yule ball. She knew he hadn't asked her because he was sizing up the empty headed sexpots that were throwing themselves at him. Well, she wasn't giving up that easily. She thought that she could probably get the information about the task from Harry Potter, but of course she couldn't just ask him. It wasn't like Harry would talk to her. 

Instead, Pansy cornered Hannah Abbott. She was a fourth year Hufflepuff. As she matured, she had traded in her childish pigtails for a more adult hairstyle. She sported a mop of curly golden hair, blue eyes and most boys thought she looked like an angel. Well, Pansy didn't think she had the body of an angel—fallen angel maybe. To top it off, she was a pureblood. The whole of Slytherin house was panting over her. Including Draco, Pansy thought with a sigh. Having her go to the Yule ball with Harry would insure that she wouldn't go with Draco and also help Pansy to do a little spying. 

"Hannah," Pansy said. "I have a little job for you. I want you to ask Harry Potter to go to the Yule ball." 

"Oh, I would love to go with him," sighed Hannah. But I can't. He wouldn't go with me. 

"Why not?" asked Pansy rhetorically. "You're pretty. That's all Gryffindors think about girls. They don't care if they have any brains."

Fortunately, Hannah either didn't realize Pansy was insulting her, or she wanted to keep her good looks and therefore ignored the insult. 

"Do you really think He would go with me?" asked Hannah again. He's awfully handsome, she sighed. 

"Honestly." thought Pansy "Didn't the girl have eyes?" She thought scarface was hot! "Of course he would," said. Pansy "Let's see if we can't corner him, so you can ask him. Then after he says yes, I have a favor to ask."

"What favor?" questioned Hannah nervously.

"Nothing much. Just get Harry to talk about what he knows about the second task during the dance."

"OK said Hannah. "I can do that."

Once they got Harry in a relatively private corridor, Hannah popped the question. He said no. He didn't even look at her. He just said no. Pansy was in shock. Obviously, he didn't have any sense—well he was a Gryffindor. No sense pretty well came with the robes. Pansy thought about it for a moment and then wondered about the whole Cho Chang crush thing that was going around Slytherin. Maybe it was a lie. A boy would have to be blind to turn down Hannah Abbot.

--or not like girls—

Time to put plan B into action. Pansy didn't often talk to Hagar Mulciber because she scared her a little, but she was a Slytherin, and would do her Slytherin duty if Pansy worded it right. If Harry didn't like girls, Hagar Mulciber might be just the right one for him, because Hagar didn't like boys either. Obviously, Harry had to take a girl to the ball and if the girl expected him to well--Pansy plucked up her courage and went to talk to Hagar Mulciber.

Hagar didn't need any help asking Harry. She marched right up to him with a glare on her face and asked him to the ball. He stared at her for a moment and then turned and ran. Pansy followed close behind Harry and Ron to hear what Harry's reaction to Hagar was. 

"Honestly, Ron," he muttered. "She looked like she might knock me out if I refused. I just bolted."

"Who was she?" asked Ron.

"A fifth year," he said. I think she's in Slytherin."

"Poor Malfoy, if that's what he's got to pick from."

They looked at each other and said "Trolls," in unison and then burst into laughter.

Pansy was still trying to think of her next move so she backed into Myrtle's Bathroom to keep from being seen.

"How ya doin' Myrtle?"

"Oh, not very good," said Myrtle picking at her chin. "It's been so lonely in here. No one ever comes to visit me."

"No trips to the boy's bathrooms lately?" Pansy teased. "How about the Prefect's bathroom?"

"No. Almost all of them know about me now except for Cedric Diggory."

"I understand," said Pansy. "He's such a pretty thing, you could almost mistake him for a girl."

"Well, not really—" said Myrtle knowingly. 

"Oh, tell me," said Pansy, sitting down on the edge of one of the sinks to listen. 

"He was in the bath for the longest time—" Myrtle started flying around through the stalls dreamily. "And the water was undoubtedly cold—" She flew through the sink. "All the bubbles were gone—" She stopped right in front of Pansy. "I could see—everything." She said smugly.

"Myrtle, you're so evil. You know you just lived at the wrong time. We could have been the best of friends."

"As long as I didn't try to steal your little Draco," Myrtle pouted. "If I was alive, you probably wouldn't even talk to me."

"So whatever was Cedric doing in the water for so long." Asked Pansy to bring the subject back to Myrtle's favorite subject, spying on naked men. "Did he fall asleep or something?"

"Oh no. He was looking at his ball," said Myrtle.

"His what!"

"His ball for the Tri Wizard Tournament."

"Oh. That ball," said Pansy. "We've been calling them eggs since they were stolen from Dragons."

"O-O-o-o really," said Myrtle flying excitedly around the sinks again. "Tell me what happened."

Pansy took her time telling Myrtle all about the First Task. She, of course, was expecting something in return from Myrtle. I really need to go," Pansy said finally.

"Why?" Said Myrtle.

"I don't want to tell you," said Pansy. "It might hurt your feelings, and I don't want to do that. I'm your friend."

"Oh go ahead," said Myrtle.

"Well, it's almost time for supper and I'm hungry. I could come back later and tell you what we had to eat if you want me to."

"No. It just makes me depressed to hear about food. I really used to like chocolate frogs, you know, even though they made my face break out."

"Myrtle—" Pansy had to get her attention quick before she descended into her misery time and started to cry or worse pouted in her U-bend. "Myrtle, I know something that might cheer you up."

"What's that?" Asked Myrtle with a sniff.

"I bet I could get Draco to come to the Prefect's bathroom."

"You could! You would do that for me!"

Pansy smiled and nodded.

"What's the catch?" asked Myrtle slyly.

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Thought Pansy. "How could anyone think this sly little ghost was a Hufflepuff. It was laughable."

"Well, it's not a catch," said Pansy, "But I would like a favor. If you could tell me a little more about the egg, I might be able to convince Draco to come and soak in your tub to figure it out, and Myrtle, I'm sure if he didn't know you were here, he'd come back—often."

"Here's what I know—" said Myrtle.

++

"Pansy! Pansy!" Millicent caught up with her in the hall on the way back to Slytherin. "I just heard. They're going to have the Weird Sisters, for the Yule Ball. Can you believe Dumb-as-a-door, actually hired them?"

"Really," said Pansy. "It was now absolutely imperative that she go to the ball with Draco."

As they passed the Potions room, Professor Snape stopped them. "Pansy, Millicent, would you ask Draco to come down to my office," he asked.

They exchanged glances. Maybe Professor Snape had a clue about the tournament that he wanted Draco to hear. After all, he had helped with the potion for the first task even though Draco ended up not using the potion. "I'll get him right away," said Pansy and she took off for Slytherin house at a run. Draco was in the common room reading their Transfiguration homework. "Poor boy," thought Pansy. "He needed a break if he was actually reading transfiguration."

"Draco," She said, "Professor Snape wants to see you in his office before supper, but before you go, I have news."

"What is it?"

  
It's merpeople, Draco. I'll give you the details when you get back. Come to my room after supper."

"He nodded."

==

A/N: No, we aren't getting into a Draco/Pansy fic. Draco is much more interested in winning the tournament than winning the girl right now; after all, he can have his pick of girls anytime, right?

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	10. Friends and Foes

Disclaimer: The plot and characters all belong to JK Rowlings—DUH

THANKS JK!

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Friends and Foes

Now there was someone who understood what it was to be a Slytherin—Professor Snape. Thought Draco. Working hand in hand with Dumb-as-a-door and yet still loyal to the Dark Lord. It was obvious, he was playing both sides of the fence and ready to jump whichever way was most advantageous once all the cards were on the table. If only Draco's own parents had as much forethought. Oh, well. It was up to him to uphold the Malfoy name. Wasn't that what his parents always told him? Obviously they weren't up to the task themselves.

As Draco passed through the shadowy dungeon corridor, he kept thinking of the egg. It would be fun to be the first to figure it out. He wasn't worried. He knew that as long as one of the Champions figured out the clue, his spies would see that he knew what the clue was too. It was just a challenge, and this challenge, Draco enjoyed. Perhaps it was because the Mudblood couldn't beat him in this—well, maybe she could—obviously, she was Harry Potter's brains.

Draco tapped on Professor's Snape's office door. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, Draco. Come in. It has come to my attention that you are studying apparition with Mr. Warrington."

"Yes, Sir," said Draco.

"I wanted you to be aware that there is more to apparating underwater than is at first apparent. First of all, it's February. Secondly, you will not be able to just hold your breath. You will naturally breath when you arrive at your apparition point, and you will choke."

"Yes, sir." Said Draco, as he mentally tallied the clues that Professor Snape had just given him, apparently thinking that the apparition study times were for the second task and not for the Dark Lord. Underwater. Cold. And Breathe.

"How is it going?"

"Oh, very well, Sir. I've almost taken over complete direction with Mort, as long as I know the place to apparate to."

Snape nodded. "That is always the tricky part, getting a clear picture, even in murky water."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Another order of business that must be taken care of is the Yule Ball," said Snape. "The Champions are to open the ball with their dance partners. I know you will choose someone deserving of the honor."

"Certainly, sir. I have someone in mind, but I haven't asked her yet." 

==

Draco walked to the Great Hall knowing what he had to do. He had considered asking many different Slytherin girls to the Yule Ball, and he was mulling over the possibilities. He didn't consider any girls from another house. It wouldn't be right to give that honor to another house. He kept coming back to Pansy. She wasn't the prettiest girl, but she was his. Totally and completely his. She wouldn't try to twist this Yule Ball into anything that it wasn't. She wouldn't blackmail him or sell him out to any of the other Champions, like the Mudblood was apparently doing to Harry Potter. 

The spies following Krum seemed to find both Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger at the library often. Of course, that really wasn't unusual for the Mudblood. She didn't have any sense of decorum like Pansy did. Unlike the Mudblood, Pansy knew where her loyalties should lie. She was a friend, and knew how a friend should act. Draco could almost pity Potter, if that was all the loyalty the Mudblood could muster. Well, not really--

And Pansy always seemed to come through for him, no matter what. Look at how she found out about the Merpeople. Plus, he liked being with her. He had a good time around her. Still, it wouldn't do for anyone to know how much he genuinely liked the girl. 

He knew she wanted more from him, but Draco knew better. He kept friendship and sex neatly categorized in his mind. As far as anything more—well, Draco didn't believe there was anything more that he wanted to explore. After all, look at how the Mudblood's love life had complicated things for Potter. And then there was Potter's infatuation for Cho Chang. Who could lust after a Ravenclaw—all that analyzing. Draco shivered. It was positively obscene. 

No, Pansy was the uncomplicated choice and she had solved the puzzle of what the second task was. He would keep his word. After all, if the word of a Slythern to a Slytherin didn't mean anything, what did?

After supper, he went up to Pansy's room. Without her saying a word, the other girls in the room started to gather up their schoolbooks. In her own way, Pansy was as much the Queen of Slytherin as he was the king. Of course, thought Draco, that was only because of her association with him—

Probably--.

"We'll be in the common room, Pansy," said Millicent as she and Blaise Zambini left the room. 

"Fine. I'll let you know when Draco and I are finished with our talk." Said Pansy.

The look Millicent gave Pansy said she didn't believe that he and Pansy were just talking, but Pansy ignored it, so he did too. Blaise just giggled.

Draco kicked off his shoes and stretched out on Pansy's bed, since the only other seats were the uncomfortable desk chairs. He leaned against the headboard and crossed his arms behind his head. "What's the news?" he asked.

"The message is in mermish," said Pansy, settling in at the bottom of the bed and starting to give Draco a foot massage. "I had Myrtle following Diggory."

"Myrtle, the moaning ghost that haunts the toilet?" Said Draco, a look of disgust on his face.

"That's the one," agreed Pansy. "She has her uses, but she didn't want to follow Diggory. She wanted to follow Potter. I think she has a crush on him."

"Who?" asked Draco confused.

"Myrtle-has-a-crush-on-Potter." Pansy said slowly as if she were explaining to Crabbe or Goyle.

Draco burst into hysterical laughter. "You're kidding me," he choked. Potter and miserable, moaning Myrtle? Oh, bloody hell, according to Grandmother, she was whiny and ugly when she was alive—now that she's dead—she's just—just—" Draco couldn't even speak; he was laughing too hard.

"Well," said Pansy, "You have to agree that she's the next best thing to an Invisibility Cloak until your father gets you one."

Draco tried to get control of his laughter, but the picture of Potter and Myrtle just didn't want to go away. "My father doesn't think it's appropriate for me to be sneaking around in it like some common school boy," said Draco finally.

"But you are a school boy," said Pansy dryly.

"But never common," retorted Draco. "So did you learn anything else, Pansy or do I have to drag it out of you inch by little inch?" Draco sat idly twirling his wand through his fingers.

"Well—" Pansy taunted running her finger up and down the bottom of his foot, tickling him.

Draco let his wand fall into the palm of his hand and gripped it. "Titillo!" He said, and Pansy convulsed into giggles with the tickling spell. "If you are going to tickle," he said, with an air of superiority, then do it like a witch, not some muggle born."

"I'm—insulted--" She panted between giggles. Then, "Ok--quit. I can't tell—you—while--I'm laughing." 

He removed the spell and she leaned back against him to catch her breath. For just a moment her shining eyes caught his. Her flat and unremarkable face was flushed with the tickling and her lips were parted. He could kiss her, he thought. Really kiss her, not just the little brushes of appreciation that had happened as the course of events unfolded in the common room, and then the moment was broken as she smacked him the side of the head with a pillow. "When are you going to ask me to the Yule Ball?" she said.

"How do you know I'm going to ask you?" said Draco.

"Because I found out what the second task is, and you keep your word—especially promises you made in front of the whole of Slytherin house."

He reached for her, but she scrambled off of the bed and picked up the egg, which he had left on her desk. She opened it and the screeching filled the room. She immersed it in a bucket of water that she had procured from Filch and it stopped, or rather it became mersong, but he couldn't hear it well. He said as much to Pansy.

"So," she sneered. "You need to soak your head in the bucket with the egg."

"Very funny," Draco intoned.

"Seriously, as good as you've been getting along with Warrington, you'd think he'd let you use the Prefects' Bathroom. You can take the egg in with you and listen to it there, or even apparate home and use your pool."

"I'm not going home," said Draco tightly. 

"Well, then, I believe 'pine fresh' is the password to the Prefects' bathroom." Said Pansy.

Draco nodded and stood "I think I will go have a bath," he said as he fished the screaming egg out of the bucket of water. Draco turned and gave Pansy a searching look. "When and how did you learn the password to the prefects' bathroom?" he asked.

Pansy smirked at him.

He didn't like it. "You'd better get rid of that." He said with a sneer as he gestured to the bucket. "If Filch finds out you stole it, he'll hang you from the ceiling, or worse, he might make you use it."

"Draco," said Pansy with mock surprise. "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it."

"Yeah. Right."

She shrugged. "Don't believe me then." She threw a pillow at him and he ducked.

"So what color are your dress robes?" asked Draco.

"Pink," replied Pansy.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I guess it beats red," he said. "But just barely."

"I like pink," Pansy pouted. "It makes me look feminine."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Really," he said. "I hadn't noticed."

She chucked another pillow at him, and he scooted out the door.

"And be on time for the ball. I hate waiting." He called.

Pansy sat on the bed for a long while with a smirk on her face. She was going to the Yule Ball with Draco. She had seen the look of passion in his eyes just before she chucked the first pillow at him, but she refused to become just another notch in his list of conquests. She knew she wasn't pretty, but she had something that Draco valued more than a pretty face. She had brains, and she intended to use them.

++

Please review and I will return the favor.

If you like this fic, please read HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH—Personally, I think it's a better story. This one is just fluff for me to wind down after the intensity of HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH.

A MILLION THANKS TO MY REVIEWERS. 

THANKS.

Lady Lestrange

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++


	11. The Prefects' Bathroom

DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to JK Rowlings. Yeah! JK.

Thank you to all my reviewers. Pass the word.. Send the link to your friends.

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 11

The Prefects' Bathroom

By the time Draco headed to the Prefects' Bathroom it was late. He only had an hour before curfew, but that should be enough time. When he reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered, a lost looking wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands, he leaned close to the door, and muttered the password Pansy had given him: "Pine fresh."

The door creaked open, and Draco wondered again how Pansy had gotten the password. She was certainly more enterprising than he had thought possible. 

The bathroom itself was beautiful, but no more elaborate than his own private bath at home. There was a chandelier, with dozens of white tapers that lit the room with a soft romantic and relaxing light. The whole of the bathroom was white marble and the tub—well more like a swimming pool—was surrounded by about a hundred golden taps. Draco turned on several taps of plain water and two of soap. 

He wished he could practice apparating from one side of the pool to the other while the tub filled. Instead he experimented with different warming charms. He had a feeling that he was not alone. He looked carefully all around the bath, and then his eyes fell on the pretty blonde mermaid picture. She was winking and smiling at him. Maybe it was her perusal he felt. The tub was filled pretty quickly. Obviously the taps were magic. Then he disrobed, climbed onto the diving board, and plunged into the water. After swimming several laps, he collected the egg and put it under the water with him. 

It only took two listenings, before Draco had the song memorized.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour—the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone. It won't come back."

Draco climbed out of the water, dried and got dressed. What on earth could they take from him that he would miss? He'd just buy another one. Well, that wasn't the idea of the Tournament, but still—what could they take? He wondered. He couldn't think of a single thing that he would really miss.

As he lay in bed that night, he continued to ponder what they might take that he would miss. At last he fell asleep.

==

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	12. The Day of The Yule Ball

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this. All of it belongs to the wonderful JK Rowlings.

THANKS JK!

PLEASE REVIEW. I WILL RETURN THE FAVOR. All flames will magically elicit the aquatoris charm, thereby turning on magical sprinklers in your computer and flooding your hard drive.

Lady Lestrange

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 12

The Yule Ball

The next few weeks flew by. 

Draco continued his apparation lessons and apparated home early on Christmas morning just to say Happy Christmas to his mother and to pick up the new robes she had bought for him to wear to the Yule ball. He didn't want his father to know that he could apparate, so he left to return to Hogwarts before his father was awake. The only Christmas present that he was really excited about was the flying carpet. It was a Persian 220, soft green, bronze and golds mixed into an intricate pattern. Draco wondered where he would be able to fly it-- probably only on Malfoy grounds, certainly not at Hogwarts, so he left it at home. He wished he would have gotten an Invisibility Cloak. It was intolerable that Harry Potter had one and he didn't. He didn't even get a new broom. He could have at least gotten a Firebolt.

When he got back to Slytherin, an impromtu meeting was going on.

"So tell me how you managed this feat?" Draco asked one of his many assistants. 

"Well, it didn't take much. Krum was always in the library and so was the Mudblood. A little love potion just before one of their library trips, and Krum was asking Hermione to the Yule Ball. So much for her helping Potter with his task. 

"The next step was to make Potter jealous of her," said another spy. 

"With any luck, Potter and Krum will curse each other silly before the Yule Ball is over." 

"So how did you get the love potion to Potter?" Draco asked.

"Oh, the whole of Gryffindor was out playing in the snow today. We just gave the fat lady a Christmas gift."

"What was that?"

"Chocolate Liqueurs. After about an hour, she couldn't even say 'fairy lights' herself and she didn't care if we were Slytherin or Hufflepuffs. She let us in. And you gave the Mudblood some of my Sleekeasy's Hair Potion, right?"

"Yes, Draco."

"Greg. Did you take care of Rita Skeeter?"

"Yes, Draco."

"She's out in the garden by Father Christmas and his reindeer." Added Vincent. "At some point, the Mudblood should go out into the garden with Potter or Krum."

Draco nodded. All was in order. Draco checked his robe one last time. It was an original Transylvanian pattern; right out of "Pureblood Quarterly" made from designer velvet imported from Romania.

It was just a few minutes until eight when Draco swept into the Slytherin common room to meet Pansy. She was pacing. "About time, Draco," she complained.

Draco did not answer. He simply offered her his arm.

She took it, leaning close to smell his cologne and glanced up into his cool gray eyes. "You look good enough to bite," she said, softly nuzzling his neck.

"Maybe later," replied Draco and they proceeded up to the Entrance Hall. He did not complement her on her dress, since aside from being pink, it had too many ruffles for his taste. Pansy would have looked better in understated elegance rather than going for feminine. He didn't tell her she was pretty. She wasn't, and he only lied when necessary. 

Greg and Vincent accompanied them like two bodyguards. Moments after they entered the Entrance Hall the Drumstrang students entered with Krum at the head of the party and the transformed Hermione Granger accompanied him. 

Malfoy stared. He couldn't help it. She was gorgeous. 

Pansy gaped too, but only for a moment. She poked Draco in the ribs. "It's just a spell, remember. She doesn't really look like that. Tons of Sleekeasy on the bush she calls hair and a mild love potion. And look at Potter drooling."

Malfoy did look at Potter, but then he whispered to Pansy. "Forget Potter. Look at the Weasel! He's smitten." 

Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Parvati dragged Potter forward in front of everybody. Krum and the Mudbood followed more sedately. Cho and Cedric looked like they were just enjoying each other's conversation and Roger Davies looked like he would have followed Fleur right into the lake. Draco shivered. He never was happier that Fleur considered him a little boy. To be that much under the spell of a woman, veela or not, was positively disgusting. He wondered briefly, if you could fight it like the impervious curse. 

When the Champions and their partners reached the table, Percy Weasley drew out the empty chair beside him, and Harry sat down. Parvati sat beside Harry and Draco took the next seat, with Pansy on his other side. 

Percy was crowing loudly about getting a promotion. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him," said Percy. Percy went on to tell Potter about how overworked Crouch was, and how the loss of his house elf left a void in his home comforts. 

"I'm sure it has," Draco said seriously. "I know how upset father was when we lost Dobby." Draco glared at Potter here, but Harry was looking a Dumb-as-a-door to see how to order the food. Honestly, how could anyone be so stupid and live to be a Forth Year—

"But personally," continued Draco, "I think it worked out for the best. We obtained two for one—a brother and a sister. I've kept the girl for my personal house elf. She is marvelous—worth ten of Dobby, and I believe my father is happy with her brother. Why doesn't Mr. Crouch just get another house elf?"

"I don't know," replied Percy, "But I'm glad he knew he had someone he could rely on to take his place at the ministry."

"Really? And who would that be?" asked Draco, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair.

Percy glared at Draco, but Draco glared right back. "Me." Said Percy at last.

"Oh. So has he learned your name and all, or are you planning to change your name to Weatherby, now. I wouldn't blame you a bit," Draco confided, cutting a piece of his fillet mignon. "If I had a name like Weasley, I'd be happy to change it."

Krum was talking incessantly about his castle and grounds. Karkaroff was not pleased. He apparently didn't want visitors to his castle. "You could always draw her a map," Draco suggested slyly.

"One would think you don't want visitors," said Dumbledore.

Well Draco could think of one visitor that Karkaroff probably didn't want, but Draco expected that the Dark Lord would be able to find Karkaroff with or without directions. He decided he should tell Karkaroff that, just for fun. Draco leaned over Pansy to tell Kararoff—"But you know, Professor Karkaroff. Some visitors don't need maps or directions—"

Karkaroff paled and mumbled something into his soup. 

Draco settled back to enjoy his steak. It was excellent. 

Then he caught the tail end of the conversation on the other side of him. Dumb-as-a-door was telling about getting lost on the way to the bathroom and finding a room with a collection of chamber pots—"When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon—or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

Potter snorted into his plate of goulash.

"Lovely dinner conversation, isn't it?" Draco confided to Potter. "Chamber pots and getting lost on the way to the bathroom. Honestly, maybe you should loan him your 'MAP', Potter, I think he's getting senile."

Once again Potter choked and snorted into his goulash, and once again Percy frowned at him.

"Some people have no manners," said Draco. Potter was staring at him, a worried expression on his face. Good, thought Draco. Let him worry about that map. I wonder what is on it.

Meanwhile, Hermione was trying to teach Viktor Krum to say her name. 

"Her-my-oh-nee!" She said. 

"Herm-own-ninny," said Krum.

"Close enough," said Hermione.

"Ninny?" said Pansy softly to Draco. 

Draco smirked. This was going to be good. The Mudblood with brains, a self-proclaimed 'ninny', but he didn't have time to tease her. Dumb-as-a-door was moving the tables back to make way for dancing.

Parvati dragged Potter forward so forcefully he tripped over his robes "Come on," she hissed. "We're supposed to dance."

"Sure you know how, Potter? Don't trip."

"Don't worry," said Parvati sweetly. "I do. As a matter of fact Malfoy, I have natural rhythm."

Draco eyed her critically. "Is that so?" he drawled. "We could always find out—later." He placed a perfectly manicured finger under her chin, and turned her to look at him. For a Gryffindor, she was almost pretty, or course, she was a Gryffindor—maybe her sister—the Ravenclaw—"

"And I could rip her eyes out," said Pansy softly. 

Draco chuckled softly, but it seemed that Potter had missed the whole exchange. Perhaps he was still staring at Hermione.

Hermione and Krum stood along with Cedric and Cho. Fleur stood and Roger Davis looked around confused, as if his heart and soul had just disappeared. Quickly he stood to join Fleur. Draco thought someone should wipe the food off of his lapel, which he had dropped when he missed his mouth because he was staring at Fleur. Sadly, no one did. Draco, being the kind soul that he is, decided that it would have to be him. He snapped his fingers and Greg and Vincent appeared at his side. "Get a napkin and clean up Roger," said Draco. "It might be to our advantage to have him as a friend."

"Of course, Draco."

"Sure thing." Said Vincent dipping a napkin in Potter's water to wet it.

"Do teeze boys alvays to vat you tell tem? Don't you haf life of your own?" said Fleur annoyed at the interruption. Her veela charms were in full bloom for Roger, and Draco felt the backwash himself. 

"UH—I donno." Said Greg, staring hungrily at Fleur. Draco, do we haf—have lives of our own?" 

"No," replied Vincent, taking a step closer to Fleur. "I don't think so."

She turned away, and Draco felt her rejection of Greg and Vincent like a sudden waterfall of ice—the bitch—He couldn't wait to beat her in the Tournament.

==

The Weird Sisters were beginning to play, so the couples moved out on to the dance floor. As expected, Potter didn't have a clue. He let Parvati steer him around the dance floor like a trained poodle. As soon as the dance was over though, he headed back to the table. Parvati went to find a more suitable partner and Hermione soon came over to join them, but it was not a happy reunion.

Draco caught the tail end of the conversation as he and Pansy danced nearby. 

"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione. "Viktor's just gone to get us some drinks."

"Viktor," said Ron. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky, yet?"

"Vicky!" thought Draco. "Oh wait until he told Rita Skeeter about the new love triangle. Vicky and the Ninny."

The dance ended and Ron's voice carried across the space that separated him from Draco.

"He's from Drumstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You---you're---" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, _"fraternizing with the enemy_, that's what you're doing!"

"Don't be so stupid!" Hermione said after a moment. "_The enemy_! Honestly—who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?

This was turning into quite a row. Draco stopped to watch. In fact, since the teachers were all up dancing, Draco decided this was a good time to sit down. He sent Vincent to get him and Pansy something to drink. 

"I'd never help him work on the egg!" said Hermione looking outraged. "_Never._ How could you say something like that—I want Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don't you Harry?"

But Harry didn't have a chance to answer.

Ron pounced on her with a sneer that was worthy of a Slytherin. "You've got a funny way of showing it!"

This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" Said Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about WINNING!"

People stopped to stare.

A solitary CLAP. . . CLAP . . . CLAP . . . punctuated the silence. "Bravo, Weasel," said Draco. "First true thing you've ever said."

"Stay out of it, Malfoy," spat Ron.

"Just trying to help. I took your side—"

"Why don't you just go and find Vicky!" said Ron, for once ignoring Draco.

"Don't call him Vicky!"

Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face.

"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Padma asked him.

"No," said Ron, still glaring at Hermione.

Draco stood catching Padma's hand and bringing it to his lips. "May I have this dance, beautiful lady?" He saw her hesitate, but didn't give her a chance to say no. He laced his arm around her waist and whispered. "What better way to get back at him?"

Padma, being a Ravenclaw, of course saw the logic in that. She allowed herself to be danced out of sight of Ron and across the floor. While they were dancing, Draco caught a bit of news that made his blood run cold. He heard Percy sharing with Gagman that Ali Bashir was caught smuggling a consignment of flying carpets into the country. Draco thought his must have been the last shipment that made it into the country. 

He didn't give it too much thought though since Padma's beautiful head was lying on his shoulder and her lovely kissable lips were just inches from his skin. He could feel her breath on his neck. 

Draco could also feel Pansy's eyes burning a hole in his back.

He danced her out of the opposite door and into the rose garden. The night was chilly and Draco pulled Padma close.

"We shouldn't be here," she whispered as Snape blasted a rose bush and Fleur and Roger fell out of it. He took points from another couple, a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but when he saw Draco, he just nodded and proceeded on his way. 

"Thank you for the dance," said Draco, and he kissed Padma quite thoroughly before he released her. She hesitated as if not sure if she were dismissed or not—or maybe she was just dazed. Draco was used to his kisses having that effect on women, but Ravenclaws tended to over-react when they were out of control. Draco stared off into the rose garden and allowed her to regain her composure. 

He smiled when he realized that Hagrid and Madame Maxime as well as Ron and Harry were leaning on opposite sides of the reindeer that held Rita Skeeter. The news tomorrow should be good. He'd have to remember to owl her and tell her the new nicknames: Vicky and the Ninny. Unfortunately, Hermione and Krum were still inside, so it didn't look like there would be any duels. Draco glanced around to see Padma working her way toward her sister and the Beauxbaton's table. 

He decided it was time to go in and dance with Pansy. He met her at the refreshment table, and after having a drink, he and Pansy danced, talked and generally enjoyed the rest of the evening. It was a special treat that Ron and Harry were sitting morosely in the corner pouting while Hermione danced with Krum.

Draco noted the re-arrangement of Slytherin spies to follow Hermione and Krum instead of the usual trio. It looked like everything was in order. Draco was disappointed when the Weird Sisters finally stopped playing, but he went up and asked for their card. Perhaps he would have them play at The Manor for his next birthday party.

As he was leaving, Draco noted Cedric sprinting through the Entrance Hall after Potter. Cho Chang was left standing at the bottom of the Ravenclaw stairs. Honestly, thought Draco, didn't any of these 'Champions' know how to treat a lady? 

Draco would have stayed to see what was so important that Cedric left Cho so abruptly, but that's what he had his spies for—

Later that night, they told him that Cedric had told Potter to "Take a bath—in the prefects' bathroom."

Draco found that exceedingly funny, but not half as funny as Pansy thought it was. 

==

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If you like this story, please r & r my other story HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH .

And watch for another FUNNY parody coming soon.

THE SLYTHERIN TRUTH: THE REAL STORY OF HOW HARRY POTTER GOT HIS SCAR

==

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	13. Of Grindelows and Gillyweed

Disclaimer: The Potterverse and Dracoese belongs to the wonderful and talented JK Rowlings

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

Of Gryndelows and Gillyweed

Late the next evening, Alvin Nott, one of Warrington's group, came into the common room. He was shivering violently, as he threw himself in a chair and conjured an enormous fire in the fireplace. "Twenty-two minutes," Alvin told Draco.

"Twenty-two minutes for what?" asked Draco. 

"To swim the length of the merpeople's city, and that's not even looking for something. You won't be able to use dolphin's breath potion. It doesn't last long enough. You'll need whale's breath," said Alvin, rubbing a red welt on the calf of his leg. "And watch out for the gryndolows."

"Thanks," said Draco as he watched Alvin's teeth chattering. "I appreciate your checking that out for me. Why didn't you use a warming spell?"

"Didn't think of it," said Alvin. "It was warm in the hall where I apparated from."

Draco just shook his head.

"I didn't think you could apparate on Hogwarts grounds," said Vincent.

"Yeah, how did you do that?" Greg questioned Alvin.

"The spells are _around_ Hogwarts," said Alvin. "They are to protect someone from coming in or out of Hogwarts grounds, but with a carefully laid plan, you can apparate within Hogwarts as long as you are not too close to the perimeter, and the lake is completely omitted from the spell. After all it's not _ground_; it's _water_. Just remember, there are always loopholes for those who want to find them."

"Wicked," said Greg and Vincent.

==

The next morning commotion ruled the common room. "What's happened?" asked Draco.

Snape's in an uproar," said Warrington. "He says his office was broken into night before last, and they stole the last of his gillyweed. He's blaming Potter, but he can't prove it."

"Really?" said Draco with a bored smile. 

"Yes," said Pansy, "But you don't know the whole story! She started to tell the whole common room what Myrtle had told her about Potter stuck on the stair under his Invisibility Cloak and his egg rolling down the stairs. Apparently, once again, he was saved by Professor Moody, but this time Moody took his map of Hogwarts."

"Just like Potter," laughed Draco. "He needs a map to find his way around Hogwarts."

Everyone thought that was pretty funny, but Draco wanted to know why Moody wanted the map. It had to be something special. Unfortunately, Moody was just about the last person he wanted to talk to. 

Meanwhile, Draco's thoughts went back to Snape and the loss of his gillyweed. Well obviously, that meant that Potter was eating that disgusting worm weed and growing gills. There had to be a better way. Draco had seen the nasty stuff turn people green and scaly. Plus, the fish-look really wouldn't go well with his blonde hair. He liked it pale gold, not slime green and stringy like some kind of sea monster. He had an image to keep up. 

++

"So do you have any idea what they will take for the second task, Draco?" asked Vincent.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know," he said. 

"Hey, maybe one of us!" said Goyle excitedly.

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. 

"You could just transfigure a couple of gorillas to replace them," whispered Pansy.

"Why bother with the transfiguration," thought Draco. "They were close enough without the bother of transfiguring them." But he didn't say anything to Vincent and Greg.

"Maybe it will be Pansy," said Alvin Nott.

"That would be sweet," said Pansy, but I bet it's his Mum."

Draco did something that he never remembered doing in the Slytherin Common Room. He blushed.

"That's it!" crowed Alvin. "It will be his Mum."

"No way," said Draco. "You don't know her that well. She doesn't swim. She doesn't get her hair wet in nasty lake water, and she definitely doesn't do 'hostage'—Takes them maybe, but doesn't become one."

"Draco's right," agreed Vincent. "They'd have to drag his mum kicking and screaming—"

"Don't forget cursing—" said Draco. "She would definitely curse someone."

"Well, if not your Mum, maybe it will be your Dad." Said Pansy.

"Hummmm," said Draco thoughtfully. "That might be worth losing the Tournament for—Do you think Dumbledore would really let him drown?"

"Nah!" said Alvin.

"Oh, well, it was a pleasant thought while it lasted," sighed Draco.

==

At Care of Magical Creatures, the next day, Draco watched the unicorns with the other boys. He loved taunting Hagrid, and Potter about his half-giant friend and missed Hagrid, now that he was pouting in his cabin because of Rita Skeeter's article. Of course, he still had Potter to tease. He was particularly miffed at Potter, because he hadn't returned the favor of telling him what the second task was. It didn't matter that Draco knew what the task was now. It upset his Slytherin idea of justice that he had given Potter a perfectly good clue about the Dragons in the First Task and Potter hadn't returned the favor. Well, Gryffindor's have no sense of fair play, thought Draco. 

He yawned and looked at the girls, gushing over the unicorns. Truthfully, the unicorns were pretty boring in his opinion especially since Grubbly-Plank kept telling the boys to stay back. He had other things he could be doing instead of standing around watching the girls pet the unicorns. Pansy liked them though, he noticed. She was edging Lavender out of the way to pet one of them. 

After class, he asked Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could have one of the blast ended Skrewts. She wrinkled her nose and assured him that no one would want to get near them. 

"I know," he said. "Someone I know wants a pet. It will be a great present."

Grubbly-Plank shook her head and shrugged. "It's ok with me if you want to take one. They keep killing each other anyway. It will be one less for me to look after until the Third Task is over—" She broke off, looking embarrassed.

"Until which blast is over?" asked Draco with an angelic smile.

"Oh." She said softly. "Never mind. Which one do you want?"

Draco chose one, put a leash around it's middle and apparated up to the Slytherin common room where he and Pansy wrestled a Christmas ribbon around the thing, dragged it into the girl's dorm and locked it in Camilla's room with a note—

Dear Camilla;

Sorry your Yule Present is late. Unfortunately, there were none of those adorable ferrets available, but I thought you would like this Blast-ended Skruet. It can sting, bite and blast. I thought you'd get along famously. 

Happy Christmas.

Draco

==

A big thank you to my reviewers. If you like this fic, please R&R my other fics. I will return the favor if you send a signed review so I can find your fics.

Lady Lestrange

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	14. The Second Task

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. JK Rowlings.

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

BY LADY LESTRANGE

The Second Task 

Thank you to my reviewers. Love you all.

Draco came down to the lake as late as possible, but once again Potter wasn't there yet. Maybe with his winnings he would buy Potter a watch, he thought drolly. 

It was freezing outside. Whatever possessed Dumb-as-a-door to decide to have the swimming contest in mid winter. Why hadn't he put this task first and the Dragons now? At the moment basking in Dragon's breath sounded infinitely preferable to a dip in the icy lake. Draco's teeth were starting to chatter, but they were forbidden to use their wands until instructed to. He just wanted a nice warming spell. His heavy winter cloak was not even warm enough to cut the chill. He pulled up the hood, although he hated to hide his hair and face from his adoring fan club that was cheering continuously. In a motion that could have been an adjustment of the cloak, Draco stole a hand under the cloak to check to be sure that the stem of gillyweed along with a small penknife were both safely tucked where they belonged. 

Ludo Bagman could barely be heard above the Slytherin cheers, even with his sonorous spell. Ludo Bagman, affectionately known among the Death Eaters as Lewd Gagman, was droning on about the ages of the Champions and how he-and Potter had beaten the older Champions. Potter! Thought Draco, what did Potter have to do with it? He had beaten the older champions. Potter had come in second. What was this: one of those muggle-type advertisements for Potter? Well, Draco had news for Gagman, It was he who had the new and improved Achio spell, not Potter. And wait till they saw his work this time. 

Draco shivered. He'd have to be quick with the warming spell, or his milky white skin would be covered with disgusting goose flesh. He'd look like a Christmas Goose instead of his debonair self, and he didn't want to waste the sexy green Lycra swim trunks that he had bought especially for the occasion.

At last, Gagman announced the beginning of the contest. Draco cast the warming spell and looked around at the others. He knew he should get on with the task, but this was the only one that he would have an opportunity to watch, and he couldn't resist. Both of the airheads did bubble head charms, and dove into the freezing water. Why did that not surprise him? Draco took a small vial out of his pocket and shrugged off his cloak, now that he was warm. He stood at the water's edge in all his magnificence. He pretended to ignore the oo-s and ah's of his fan club, until he looked around and realized that Viktor Krum had also shed his cloak. The muscles of his Quiddich body quivered in the cold, but nothing in his dark, brooding eyes seemed to acknowledge his discomfort. This was the man to beat, thought Draco as he handed his folded cloak to Pansy. She leaned in as if to give him a good luck kisses. He quickly turned his cheek and then smiled at her, before waving to his fans—or were they Krum's fans? —Nasty thought--

Standing in loose boxer type swim trunks with tiny sharks on them, Viktor raised his wand and began his spell. He transfigured himself into—an abomination. He was half shark and half man. McGonagall would have failed him. Didn't they teach transfiguration at Drumstrang? If Draco was confident before, now he was sure of his victory. He hid his out and out laughter behind his traditional smirk, and glanced up at his fan club. Their attention was back where it belonged. On him.

Gagman's words interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Malfoy has only done a warming spell and is currently doing nothing but modeling his designer swimsuit. Perhaps he never learned how to swim—Of course, he could always do what Harry Potter has done—"

Draco turned, just in time to see Potter's mouth plugged full of gillyweed like some kind of chipmunk. Didn't he know he didn't have to eat the whole bush? It was such slimy stuff. Well, knowing Harry Potter, he probably liked the disgusting stuff. After all, he liked the Mudblood, and Weasley didn't he? And they were pretty disgusting. 

Plowing into the water without removing his robe at all, Potter pushed past Draco. He was fully clothed, although by the look of the robes, he had slept in them and the lake water couldn't make them look any worse. "Hey Potter," he sneered. "About time you washed those robes. Better conjure some soap. They look like you used them to mop up the owlry."

Potter opened his mouth to answer, but apparently he had already swallowed some of the gillyweed. He gasped in air, that his newly sprouted gills couldn't handle. With the gills flaring at his neck, he plunged face first into the water, showering Draco with the cool drops. 

With a muttered curse, Draco decided it was time to go. He pulled the stopper on the vial and downed the Whale's breath potion. Uncertain of what to do with the vial now that Pansy had taken his cloak back to the stands, he glanced up at the Slytherin girls. With a lazy smile, he tucked the empty bottle back under the right side of his jock strap, opposite the gillyweed and penknife. The reaction was instantaneous. Half of the Slytherin girls stood and whistled and cheered the other half hid their faces in laugher or embarrassment. Their smiling faces were the last thing he saw a he raised his wand and apparated to the mer-city at the bottom of the lake. 

No one was in sight. He had of course beaten everyone to the city, even though he was the last to leave the shore. The hostages were not hard to find. They were tied in plain sight. There was Weasley, the Mudblood, Cho Chang and another little girl, obviously a veela, Fleur's little sister, Draco surmised. He wondered who Potter was supposed to choose—one of his friends or the love of his life. 

Draco had no such problem. He went immediately to Tully and stuffed the stem of gillyweed in her mouth. Although he pushed the gillyweed half way down her throat, she didn't swallow and her eyes didn't open. Apparently, he had to cut her lose before the spell was broken. Draco sliced through the bonds with the penknife and once again tried to get her to swallow the gillyweed. Although the spell was supposed to last until they reached the air, Draco had no intention of carrying a house elf when she could swim for herself. As soon as the spell was broken, she would not be able to breathe. That should happen, right now, thought Draco with a wave of his wand. Her eyes opened in surprise. Terror showed on her face as he forced the gillyweed down her throat. She gagged once and had clung to him, but she had faced much worse at Malfoy Manor and after all, she was only a house elf. Before she actually turned blue, she turned green. 

Once he realized she was breathing, he smirked at her. Immediately she grabbed his hand and started kissing it. He could just imagine what he would be hearing if she could talk under water. Oh Master Malfoy, you are the mostest wonderfullest master in the wide world—or the wide sea—"

Draco saw just below him, Potter at last get to the hostages. He started to try to take one of the merpeople's swords. They refused. He got a piece of rock and started hacking at Hermione's bonds. Well, thought Draco, that told you who he cared most about. The merpeople again stopped him. Draco would have dearly loved to watch the show, but decided it was time to go.

He pointed upwards and she nodded, immediately setting off at a brisk pace to the surface. He swam up after her, but was considerably slower without fins and webbed feet. At the surface, he turned to see exactly where the judge's stand was located and pointed her in that direction, with a snap of his fingers. At Malfoy Manor, that snap meant do it now and be quick about it. Tully understood and instead of swimming she went pop and disappeared. He thought he better apparate immediately to make sure she kept her head underwater until the gillyweed wore off.

With a wave of his wand, he joined Tully on the shore and promptly picked her up and deposited her back into the lake where she could breathe. The hands that clung to his leg and rubbed his calf told him what a wonderful master he was. She wasn't going to let go of him, so he gave in and dragging her along, moved to a out jutting rock that allowed him to dangle his feet in the water. Under the lake, Tully began to give him a foot massage with her strangely webbed elfin hands. Draco sighed and waved Madam Pomfrey away when she tried to give him a blanket. His warming charm was working fine and he was enjoying watching the girls drool.

Draco stretched and flexed and settled back to watch. Watch what? What on earth were all of these people watching? The top of the lake? They couldn't see the Champions. This had to be the most quintessentially boring event in history. For this they cancelled Quiddich?

Ludo Bagman was outlining what Draco must have done under the water in his sonorous voice, but he didn't have a clue. Rita Skeeter was standing just a few feet away apparently wondering if it was too early to ask Draco anything. She had an acid quill, but she was just a little afraid of the Malfoys. "Well, who wouldn't be?" thought Draco as he motioned her over to him. She came to the edge of the water. 

"Closer," Draco said snidely and watched her step into the frigid seaweed green water with her beautiful gray silk covered pumps. He imagined that in her line of work, she had to learn quite a number of cleaning charms. 

"What did you see?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"None of the Champions?" she began, disappointment apparent in her face. "Krum? Potter—"

"Oh, yeah, Potter. I hesitate to call him a Champion, but yes, I saw him down there."

"Well, what was he doing?" asked Rita in exasperation.

"Playing: Eenie, Meenie in the Pond—

Catch a wizard by the wand—"

Rita started to laugh—her Quick Quotes Quill scribbling furiously--

==

THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS.

If you like this fic, please read and review my others—

I will return the favor if yours is a signed review and I can find your fics.

HAPPY WRITING!

Lady Lestrange 


	15. The Ferret's Revenge

Disclaimer: All Potterverse belongs to JK Rowlings. 

Disclaimer: Due to the nature of this chapter, lines of Karkaroff's and some of Hagrid's are written by JK Rowlings. Part of this chapter takes place after Barty Crouch Sr. is "lost" in the woods, and I needed JK's setting to make it understandable. The scene itself diverts considerably from JK's . The words/actions of the ferret, Fang, Draco and all the Slytherins speaking at this scene are mine.

No infrigement is meant or implied.

Lady Lestrange

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

****

The Ferret's Revenge

Draco went up to the Great Hall for breakfast, with both of Rita Skeeter's articles in hand. He didn't know which of her articles was funnier—the one about the Harry-Hermione-Krum love triangle or the one denouncing Dumbledore for the lack of protection for the Hogwart's Students. Of course, the second article had a much better picture: color photograph of Draco Malfoy instead of Harry Potter. Poor Krum, thought Draco. He was part of the love triangle and a Tri-Wizard contestant—contestant—yes, a much better word than Champion, Draco thought. But he didn't get his picture in the paper. Oh well, he was in the paper on the sports page often enough. Maybe that's why Rita decided not to use Krum's picture with Hermione. Personally, Draco thought the one by the lake with seaweed and a beetle in Hermione's bushy hair and Krum still half transfigured into a shark would have been a great joke.

In the article, Dumbledore was quoted as saying: "The fact that a fourteen year old boy apparated to the bottom of the lake, does not mean that the magics protecting Hogwarts are in any way faulty . . . He is of course, a very bright student—exceptional really--" 

Draco's lips curled into their customary smirk. He doubted that he would ever have received praise from Dumbledore any other way. Of course, who cared what the old coot thought anyway?

Dumb-as-a door continued to dig himself in deeper and deeper as he tried to explain that the lake had been exempt from the protecting wards do to the fact that no one could apparate from outside of Hogwarts into the lake, nor could they apparate from the lake to outside of Hogwarts due to the perimeter protection wards. The bans on apparition WITHIN Hogwarts grounds were not protection spells. They were anti-cheating spells that prevented a student from apparating into a teacher's office and stealing an exam and then apparating back out again. Finally he flatly refused to answer any more questions about how the protections were set up—he cited the fact that revealing any more than he already had, would indeed compromise safety.

Draco sighed. Dumb-as-a-door, might not know it, but several Slytherins had found a few of those loopholes too. Of course no one could apparate into a teacher's office, but to disapparate from a secret passage which was deeper in the earth than the actual perimeter of Hogwarts grounds were was a possibility. Then apparate from one of the other secret passages was certainly a possible solution to staying hidden from that teacher while stealing the exam. In fact telling Dumb-as-a-door about one of those passages was how Draco got out of trouble for underage apparition—that and his sweet angelic smile—and Professor Snape. Of course Draco wouldn't tell about one of the passages that was used—there were so many—he just picked one of the older disused ones. Draco thumbed through the magazine looking for the other article. It wasn't there. Oh well, it should be out in print tomorrow or the next day—_Youngest Wizard in History to get His Apparition License_.

"Ahem."

Draco looked up, and to his surprise, found the Mudblood standing right in front of him, at the Slytherin table. A small blush tinged her cheeks, but she met his eyes. "I was wondering—" she began, as she fiddled with a parchment in her bag, and then she glanced at Vincent and Greg who were both slopping noisily in their breakfast plates, shoveling food as fast as they could. "Malfoy," she continued frowning when Greg noisily spat a fruit pit onto his plate and some of his food dribbled down his chin. "Do you think—we could talk—privately?"

Draco Malfoy let his eyes travel down from her bushy hair and mud brown eyes all the way to her toes, lingering ever so slightly at several opportune spots along the way. By the time his eyes reached her face again, her brown eyes were flashing fire and her face blushing crimson. "Not interested," he said blandly.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a parchment upon, which were written several names and a single button with the word: spew written on it. She tried to find a clean spot on the table to lay the parchment, but with Crabbe and Goyle nearby that was impossible. She snatched up Greg's unused napkin and mopped up a small portion of the table. Laying the parchment of the edge of the table she began to speak.

"I thought since you saved your house elf in the last task, you might want to join S. P. E. W. ? I think you will agree that house elves are—"

"Spew?" repeated Draco.

"It's S. P. E. W. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. You sound like Harry and Ron—"

Crabbe choked and spewed food all over himself, the table and the parchment.

"S. P. E. W.?" Draco spelled, not wanting to be compared with Potter and Weasley in any way. 

Draco's cool gray eyes appraised the Mudblood with amusement while she attempted to save the parchment. She tried to shake droplets of food off of her parchment, but they were stuck fast. She didn't want to do that over the floor, nor over the just cleaned spot on the table, nor over Vincent's plate, although he probably wouldn't have noticed-- Instead, she took Vincent's napkin and cleaned the worst of the food off, rolling the pieces of food in the napkin.

Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, he thought was she a witch or not? He pulled out his wand and with a quick cleaning spell, removed the mess.

"Ah—thanks," she said, and then with typical Gryffindor bravado, she pushed on. "I just mean that the Tri-wizard poems said 'something that you would sorely miss,' would be taken, so you have to care about your house elf more than anyone thinks and if she was freed she would be—

"Freed! Did you swallow too much lake water, Granger? Potter lost us our house elf at the end of second year and it's taken us all this time to find another one that knows the meaning of the word 'work'." 

"Yes, I know," said Hermione. "Dobby is here at Hogwarts now, and so is Winky, Mr. Crouch's elf—If you would just talk to Dobby, you would see--"

"I don't want to talk to Dobby, and I certainly have no intention of freeing my house elf," said Draco.

"Oh." She said softly. "Well, then fair wages—"

"And as far as buttons," Draco continued, standing and pinning one with his own smiling face on her robe. "You can have one of mine. Now, get lost."

With her face even more flushed than before, either with anger or with tears, Hermione turned and sprinted back to the Gryffindor table.

"Draco," said Greg. "Why DID they pick a house elf instead of one of us?"

"Because Tully's smarter?" ventured Pansy.

Vincent sniggered and then realized belatedly that Pansy had included him in that insult too.

"That's could be right, Pansy," said Draco. "After all she writes a great Transfiguration paper. Where else could I find another house elf who could fool McGonagall? I wouldn't even dream of asking Greg or Vincent to write a paper for me, especially not Transfiguration.. Plus, she does keep my robes pressed" 

"And she does a great foot massage too, I suppose," said Pansy. 

"Yes, there is that. But, don't worry, Pansy, you're a close second," Draco said. "You just need a little more practice and you'll be a good as Tully."

"What did Granger want?" asked Pansy changing the subject. 

"To ask me to join S.P.E.W. ," said Draco showing her the button that Hermione had left behind. "And to try to get me to free my house elf."

The four of them spent the next few minutes chuckling.

"Can I have this?" asked Pansy suddenly, picking up the S.P.E.W. badge that Hermione had left behind.

Draco shrugged. "Go on then," he said. "But don't start talking wages and freedom to my house elf—"

"I won't," Pansy promised laughing.

Later that day, outside of the potions classroom, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other Slytherins crowded around Pansy. She was passing out the transformed buttons. 

"When did you have time to do this?" asked Draco. "You were in class all day."

"Binns," said Pansy shortly and Draco nodded. A smile growing on his face as he surveyed her handiwork. 

Draco, Vincent, Greg, Pansy and a few other Slytherins were standing outside of their potions classroom plotting how to introduce the newly animated S.P.E.W. buttons. The letters S.P.E.W. were still evident, but the letters were smaller than on the original button and when you pushed the center, two Seekers flew around the button, one in Gryffindor red, the other in Bulgaria's red. A snitch with Hermione's wet head fluttered between them —Draco recognized the picture as when The Mudblood just came out of the lake—. The caption read: Snitch Potter's Experienced Whore. 

"But you can't have them in the same color robes, Pansy," complained Greg. "Bulgaria's is bright blood red. Gryffindor's is darker. More—uh—"

"Whore house red?" suggested Draco.

The crowd sniggered.

"Here they come!" said Vincent.

It was possible, The Mudblood hadn't seen the copy of Witch Weekly with the article about the Potter-Granger-Krum so Pansy threw her a copy. With identical smirks on their faces, the whole group of Slytherins flashed their new buttons right before Professor Snape opened the door and beckoned them inside.

Harry turned a dark shade of crimson and Ron had already reached for his wand.

"Thinking of hexing someone, Weasel?" Draco's soft drawl was barely audible, but Snape frowned at Ron.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape.

"Wha—"

With a swish of robes, Professor Snape was inside. "Don't dawdle," Snape snapped. "The Wit Sharpening Potion we are brewing today will take all of our time."

"Be sure and get this potion right," Draco whispered to Longbottom as he passed his table. "You certainly need it."

Harry, Ron and Hermione headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of the Wit Sharpening Potion on the blackboard, Hermione rifled through the magazine under the desk. Only a few minutes into class, Professor Snape discovered them talking about the article and took another ten points from Gryffindor. "Ah. . . reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor…oh but of course…Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings."

The dungeon rang with Slytherin laughter and to Draco's delight, Snape began reading the article, pausing at the end of each sentence to allow the laughter to die down enough that he could be heard again.

"Look," whispered Vincent to Greg. "Potter's face is Gryffindor red."

"Well, I'd better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Potter, that table in front of my desk. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Move. Now."

A look of pure delight came over Pansy's face as The Mudblood moved to her table. Granger, however, looked miserable. 

Draco couldn't hear most of what Professor Snape was saying to Potter, but he did catch a few stray words

"Nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him—"

Then Potter burst out with "I haven't been anywhere near your office!"

"Don't lie to me—Gillyweed. Boomslang skin. . "

Suddenly Professor Snape thrust his hand beneath his robes and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. Draco knew what it was—veritaserum. It made Slytherin Truth or Dare so much more interesting! For just a moment Draco watched Professor Snape and Potter, anxious to see or more importantly hear, the serum used. Unfortunately, Professor Snape put the small vial back in his robe pocket. Just when Draco thought the class was going to get very interesting! Draco sighed and worked on his Wit Sharpening Potion.

Karkaroff came into the classroom and tried to engage Professor Snape in conversation. When Professor Snape wouldn't talk to him until after the lesson, Karkaroff hovered behind the professor's desk until class was over. Everyone was out of the classroom before Draco realized that Potter had stayed behind. Oh well, the other spies would pick up on Potter as soon as they could. It wasn't like they were missing anything about the tournament in the conversation with Professor Snape and Karkaroff. Obviously they were discussing the Dark Lord's bidding.

==

The last week of May, finally brought news of the Tri-Wizard Tournament Task. Professor Snape told Draco that all of the Champions were to meet down by the Quiddich Pitch at 9:00 that evening to hear what Gagman had to say about the final task. Draco was there by 8:30. Once again, the Champions had to wait for Potter. This time, however, Cedric was also late. 

"The Champions who have the most points will get a head start in the maze," said Gagman. "That means of course, Draco Malfoy will go first, followed by Harry Potter. Then will come Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory and of course, the beautiful Fleur Delacour. The Champions listened to a few more minutes of Gagman's monologue and then dispersed to go their separate ways—except for Krum and Potter. They stayed to chat. That couldn't be good, but Draco wasn't worried. His spies were onto it.

As he was walking back to the Slytherin Common Room, a burly seventh year Slytherin caught up with him. 

"Hi, Pritch," said Draco.

Owen Pritchard brought Draco some interesting news. "I don't think this has anything to do with the tournament," he said, "But your father might like to know. Sirius Black is back—living right outside of Hogsmeade—in a cave."

"Sirius Black?" asked Draco. "The Potter's secretkeeper?"

"There's more. Potter was talking to him like he was an old friend instead of the wizard who betrayed his parents." Owen continued to talk as Draco digested the news. What did this mean?

"You actually saw Sirius Black?" asked Draco.

"Well, yeah. A dog led them to a cave. I heard them talking. I saw Sirius Black. He's an animagus!" 

"And how could you possibly know that!" said Draco.

"Oh, I knew you were going to ask that," said Owen. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. Couldn't you just believe me?" he whined.

"No," said Draco as he stopped to look at the boy. He was roughly the size of Goyle—maybe a little bigger. It wasn't like he could easily hide behind a tree, and if Potter went into the cave, it was impossible."

"I'm an animagus too," Owen whispered. 

"That's great," said Draco. "What's your animagus?"

"Ferret," muttered Owen Pritchard under his breath.

"What?" said Draco. "I didn't hear you."

"Ferret," he repeated.

==

"Draco! Draco!" Mort Warrington interrupted as they were entering the Great Hall. "There's news," he panted. "Where's Professor Snape?"

"I think he went to Dumbledore's office. Why?" asked Draco.

I was following Krum when he and Potter were meeting down by the Forbidden Forest.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So what are the two of them up to?"

"That's not it," said Mort. "It's Crouch. Old Barty Crouch is here. He's asking to see Dumbledore. He's a mess. Talking wild. It looks like he's fighting Impervious to me."

"Show me where," said Draco. Shouting over his shoulder at Pansy to "Get Snape!" Draco took off at a run after Mort. Draco's thoughts were in chaos. First Sirius Black and then Barty Crouch turning up. It had to mean something, but what? "Where was the Slytherin who was supposed to be following Potter?" Draco asked Mort.. 

"The question isn't where," said Mort. "It's who—It was Goyle. He'd probably still be running to Slytherin Dungeons, but I told him to watch Crouch."

"He'll screw it up," said Draco. "He never does anything right. He can't move fast enough to follow Crouch."

"He'll be alright," said Mort. "I told him to climb a tree and watch."

"Goyle can't climb a tree," said Draco incredulously.

"Well, he did need a little help—"said Mort with a twinkle in his eye. "But I haven't practiced Impervio for a while anyway. It seemed like a good time."

"Good thing you didn't send him for me," said Draco. "He'd probably forget the password again." Draco stopped short. Something moved in the trees ahead of them, and both Mort and Draco reached for their wands.

"Stupefy!" came the sound of a spell through the trees. A bright flash of green light and "Avada Kedavra" followed it almost immediately!

"Bloody Hell," whispered Mort. 

"Who is it?" whispered Owen who had followed them.

"Moody," whispered Draco in amazement. He wouldn't soon forget the sound of his Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher's voice—not after the terrifying minute and a half he spend as a bouncing ferret. Draco hated Moody more than he feared him and had been looking for a way to get even. Maybe this was it. Placing his finger on his lips to signify quiet, he inched forward. He wondered where Goyle was hidden.

Moody was bending over Crouch's dead body. He glanced around as if worried that he was being watched. That magical eye swiveled wildly and Draco slid back behind the tree. When he peeked out again, Moody was in the process of transfiguring Crouch's body into a bone. It was a small bone. It would have fit in the palm of Draco's hand if he could only reach it. There it was the incriminating evidence to put Moody away in Azkaban! Then it dawned on Draco. If Moody was an auror, then Crouch must have been a Death Eater, and that certainly didn't seem like it was possible. No. The Death Eater then, must be Moody. That seemed much more likely, but who could it be? Wondered Draco. Death Eater or not, he had turned Draco into a ferret in what was one of his most embarrassing moments, not to mention painful. Moody would pay.

"Pritch? Do you think you could get the bone?" Draco asked.

Pritch shook his head. "I could dig it up after he leaves, but I can't sneak it from under his nose, Draco. He's an auror. It would be suicide."

"No, he's not—" began Draco when there was suddenly a huge crash. . Everything happened at once. Greg Goyle and a tree branch fell smack in front of Moody, the branch knocking the wooden leg out from under him. Rolling into a crouch, Moody shouted "Constant Vigilance!" and hit Greg with a stunning charm. Of course, Greg wasn't quiet. He was rolling around on the ground and grunting like a mountain troll. Owen took the moment to change into a ferret and snatch the coveted bone. Moody, still on the ground, sent a shower of sparks after the ferret, but it was too fast, dodging for a hole under the tree. Moody hobbled to his feet.

Unfortunately, Potter and Dumbledore turned up at about the same time, and discovered Krum, out cold on the forest floor. Moody almost walked into Dumbledore in his haste to get to the ferret.

"AH! Professor Moody," said Dumbledore.

"Damned leg," he said furiously, and then recovering his wit, he swiveled his magical eye on the ferret while watching Dumbledore with his normal eye. "Would've been here quicker.. . .What's happened? Snape said something about Crouch—" 

"He attacked me!" Krum interrupted, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind."

While Potter and Dumb-as-a-door were worrying about Krum, Moody was unobtrusively trying to catch the ferret who was hopping just out of reach with the bone in his mouth. Hampered by his bad leg, Moody was in no shape to compete with the wickedly fast little creature. Draco got a whole new respect for ferrets. 

"I want to fix this moment in my mind forever," Draco whispered to Mort. "Did you ever see anything as funny as that ?" Although he was enjoying the sight of Moody hopping and squirming, Draco shivered. He didn't think he could have brought himself to put that bone in his mouth even if he was thinking like a ferret. Being an animagi did strange things to people's minds he decided. Look how weird McGonagall was!

Meanwhile, Dumbledore called Hagrid by conjuring a summoning bird with his wand. 

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry—what the—"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff immediately," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked." 

No one had as yet noticed the ferret except, of course Moody, but the wizard was now accompanied by Fang, who was frantically trying to dig the little creature out from under the roots of the tree, from which Greg had fallen. Greg, of course, was now complaining loudly until Dumbledore asked him just why he happened to be in the tree in the first place.

Greg, typically, couldn't think of a single thing to get himself out of the predicament. Draco sighed and stepped out from behind the trees. Mort Warrington followed him.

"Malfoy!" cried Potter angrily.

"It was a bet, Sir," said Draco, looking at Dumbledore with his best innocent, little boy, look. "I bet Greg he couldn't climb that tree, and well I guess he did it, even though he fell out."

"That's right," said Mort. "So pay up, Malfoy."

Moody taking the moment while Dumbedore's attention was on Draco to try to sneak a stupefy spell at the ferret, hit Fang.

Fang yelped and ran back to Hagrid. He growled viscously at Moody, but didn't leave Hagrid's side again.

"What the—" began Hagrid, glaring at Moody.

"That ferret is holding something," Said Moody.

"Dust bins," murmured Draco as he took a silver sickle out of his pocket and handed it to Greg.

Greg looked stupidly at the sickle. 

"Put it in your pocket, Greg," said Draco.

Greg complied.

"What happened to Crouch, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. Potter seemed to be the only one interested in keeping the focus on what REALLY happened here tonight.

Draco ignored him.

"Did you see Mr. Crouch?" Dumb-as-a-door finally asked Draco. "Did you see who attacked Mr. Krum?"

"No sir," said Draco seriously.

"And you Mr. Warrington?"

Most shook his head. "No sir."

Potter snorted in disbelief. "You were right here. You had to have seen Crouch."

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply, as Snape approached, robe billowing out behind him.

"Oh, yeah . . . right y'are, Professor . . . " said Hagrid, and he turned toward the dark trees, calling Fang to come with him, but Fang began to dig at the tree roots again. "Come on there, Fang!" called Hagrid again, and reluctantly, Fang left the ferret and followed Hagrid with a last growl at Moody.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "But it's essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand –

Pritch leaped from the cover of the tree roots and scampered up Snape's robes and into his pocket. Snape apparently recognized the little fellow because he didn't blink an eye as the ferret sought safety in his robe.

Moody glared at Snape, his wand trained on him. "Snape—what was that—"

"Professor Snape was with me until just a few minutes ago," said Dumbledore coldly. "And he had nothing to do with this incident. 

"But he has that ferret—"

"I wasn't aware that was a crime," said Snape "If it were, I believe you were the first to be caught in the company of a ferret—" Professor Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out, instead of the ferret, the bone. He looked at it curiously for a moment.

"What is it?" asked Dumbledore.

Moody held out his hand. "Let me see. It looks like—" He began.

"Potion ingredient," said Snape dropping it back into his pocket. "Bone of Hippogrift" Turning

his sharp black eyes on Moody, Snape continued. "And the ferret belongs to a friend. I'm--pet-sitting." Snape looked like he was ready to gag on those last two words, but Moody dared not contradict him in front of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore just looked at Snape with a twinkle in his eye.

Moody, however, stared at Snape in utter loathing, and then turned on his heel and walked into the woods to search for a Mr. Barty Crouch, who he knew he would not find. 

Hagrid and Karkaroff returned. Karkaroff was wearing his sleek silver furs and looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum and Goyle on the ground with Dumbledore, Snape, Harry and Draco standing beside them.

"I vos attacked!" said Krum.

"By this—this gorilla!" cried Karkaroff pointing at Goyle.

"No," said Krum. "By Mr. Crouch or votever his name—"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid. He rambled on about treachery, and spat on the ground at Dumbledore's feet.

In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against that same tree, so recently abused.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle beside Goyle in the pile of dirt Fang had dug from the roots. A few twigs and leaves showered down upon him.

"Headmaster," interrupted Professor Snape, "May I take the students back to their dormatories?"

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore looking distracted. 

"Potter," spat Professor Snape as Harry hung back, unwilling to go with Snape and the Slytherins. Draco couldn't say he'd blame him. 

Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "Hagrid, will you kindly escort Harry to Gryffindor Tower, while Professor Snape takes the Slytherins to their dormitories? And stay there," said Dumbledore, eyes flashing. 

"I'll leave Fang," said Hagrid, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still tangled in furs and tree roots.

"Stay Fang. Come on, Harry."

Fang immediately went to the bottom of the tree and with a low growl began digging a breath away from Karkaroff's thigh. Karkaroff moved quickly out of the way.

==

Snape said nothing until they were safely in Slytherin House. Draco hoped to slip upstairs to bed, but as they entered the Dungeon, Snape snarled. "My office." He pulled Pritch out of his pocket and put him on a chair. "Transform, now." He said.

After Owen Pritchard was a boy again, Professor Snape froze them with his dark eyes. 

Steepling his fingers as he sat at his desk, he asked, "What exactly do I have in my pocket?"

"Bone of Hippogrift?" said Draco hopefully.

"Not likely," snarled Snape. 

"The truth is much stranger," said Owen."You won't believe it."

"Try me, "said Snape.

"It's Crouch's body," said Draco. "Moody was trying to bury it."

"Crouch was fighting the Impervious curse," said Mort Warrington. "I'm sure of it, sir."

"Explain, Mr. Warrington." Said Snape.

"Crouch was a physical wreck and he was babbling to the trees. He thought he was talking to his assistant—ah--"

"Weatherby," supplied Draco.

"That's it," said Mort "He thought he was talking to Weatherby, and then when he broke through, he told Potter that he had to talk to Dumbledore. He said that he had done a terrible thing—something about his son and Bertha Jorkins—He kept saying he was sorry--"

Snape got paler than his usual sallow color. "Who heard this?" he asked tightly.

"Potter and Krum," said Mort. "Then Potter went for Dumbledore and left Krum guarding Crouch. As soon as Potter was out of sight, Crouch panicked. He said Krum was 'one of his' and was trying to run. Krum stunned him, so I thought he would stay put, and I ran to look for you—"

"For me?" questioned Snape.

"Well you and Draco," said Mort. "I thought you would be in the Dungeon. When you weren't there, we sent Pansy to find you, and Draco and I went back to the Forest."

"And what about you, Mr. Goyle?" asked Snape. "What were you doing in that tree?"

Goyle, oblivious to Mort and Draco's warnings to be quiet, said, "Spying on Potter."

Snape glared at Draco. "And what, Mr. Goyle, did you observe from your vantage point in the tree?" Snape asked. 

"Ah—nothing Sir," said Goyle. "I—ah—I had my eyes closed. I'm scared of heights."

"Well, then why did you climb the tree!" shouted Snape.

"Well, Mort—"

"I helped him!" Interrupted Mort in a panic. "So he could keep a lookout—"

Snape looked from one to the other in consternation. "I don't think I want to know," said Snape. "I suppose you were spying on Krum?" Snape asked Mort. 

"Yes, sir."

Professor Snape sat in his desk chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "I think, I need to borrow your Eagle owl, Mr. Malfoy. None of the school owls will know where to go—"

"Professor," said Draco. "Who is Moody? He can't really be Moody can he? Would Professor Moody, an ex-auror kill Barty Crouch? It doesn't make sense."

"Boomslang skin," muttered Professor Snape. "It makes perfect sense. –But I was so sure it was Potter--"

"Sir?" asked Draco.

"The Poly juice potion," said Snape. "I don't know who it is yet. But we will know when we replace his Polyjuice brew with one of my own making. I need to brew a potion. Then, in four days time, I will require your assistance Mr. Pritchard. The replacement potion will be ready then." 

"But four days is the day before the Third Task," said Draco.

"I know," replied Snape, his eyes flashing. "Perfect, isn't it?" Snape began scribbling on a piece of parchment. "All of you may go back to your dormitory, except for you Draco." He said.

They filed out of the room. The only sound was the scratch-scratch of Professor Snape's quill on the parchment. He folded the piece of parchment and sealed it. "In the morning," said Professor Snape, "You will have your Eagle owl deliver this to the Dark Lord. He knows where to go. Simply tell him Lord Voldemort. I don't need to tell you not to get caught doing this, do I?"

"Of course not," said Draco, taking the parchment and slipping it into his robe pocket.

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

"Good night, Professor," said Draco.

When Draco got to his room he looked at the envelope in his hand. Unlike most wizarding letters, this one had no name and no address. It was completely blank, so that if anyone intercepted the owl, they would not know where Lord Voldemort was hidden. After looking at it for a moment, Draco put the envelope under his pillow and lay down to sleep.

==

Four days later, the owl had already made its trip and returned. Draco wondered where The Dark Lord was. He had to be closeby for the owl to return so quickly.

Professor Snape told Draco and Owen to tell Professor Sprout when they arrived at herbology that he needed to replace the ginger root he had used in the Wit Sharpening Potion before his sixth period class. Sprout sent Draco and Owen back to Snape with the roots. When they arrived at Snape's office with the roots, Professor Snape said, "Minister Fudge is here with Ludo Bagman. They will be touring the Tri Wizard Tournament Maze in a few minutes. It is a perfect time for you to alter the potion." He gave them a small amount of liquid in a container and told them to add it directly to the cauldron of polyjuice when they found it. "I would imagine it's in his trunk." Snape said.

"But sir," said Draco. "How are we going to get past all of his dark wizard detectors?" 

"I'll leave that to your ingenuity, young Mr. Malfoy, but I do have some help for you—"

"What's that?" asked Draco.

Snape held out a ring of keys. "For Moody's trunk," he said, his eyes darkening dangerously. "It's a pity you can't ransack his room like he did my lab—unfortunately you'll have to be very careful to put everything back exactly as you found it or he may suspect the polyjuice potion."

Five minutes later, Draco and a small ferret were entering Moody's room. "Professor Moody," called Draco, from the doorway. "Professor Moody," he called again loudly. 

All of the dark wizard detectors were whirling, but Draco did not move from the door. Hopefully, the wizard detectors would focus on him and miss the tiny ferret, keys in its mouth, crawling along the floor to Moody's trunk. The ferret fitted the first key into the lock, but couldn't open the lid. There was no help for it. Pritch had to transform back into human form. He opened the trunk. Nothing was there but a bunch of spellbooks. Draco could see them from the doorway. The second lock opened on some more dark wizard detectors and an Invisibility Cloak. His hands itched to touch the silky material, but he remained at the door. The third lock opened to a large bottle and a brewing cauldron—polyjuice potion! Owen looked doubtful, but decided to split the potion Snape had given them between the two containers. Then he hastily closed the lids and locked the trunk. The ferret had just scampered into Draco's pocket with the keys, when a hand closed on the back of Draco's neck.

"What have we here?" growled Moody. Sneaking around, poking that little ferret nose into things that don't concern you.

"I didn't touch anything," whined Draco. "I was just looking for you. I wanted to talk to you—about the other night—"

"Is that so?" said Moody. "Well, talk." Moody didn't remove his hand from Draco's neck. If anything the fingers tightened.

Draco licked his dry lips, thinking frantically—Who else knew anything at all about Moody—or Crouch—or—suddenly an idea came to Draco. Moody's office was on the main corridor. If only he could bluff long enough, someone was sure to come down the corridor—"In second year, my father dismissed one of our house elves," said Draco. "He came here to work. I check on him occasionally to be sure—Well, I check on him for--Father—" spat Draco. 

He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice, as he thought about his father—telling him to lose the Tri-Wizard Tournament—He hadn't spoken to him since the First Task. He had sent back all owls unopened—even the money and candy. Of course, his mother re-sent them secretly—

As Draco spoke, the ferret stealthily worked his way out of Draco's pocket and down the folds of his robe. 

"What does this have to do with the other night?" Croaked Moody.

"I recently learned another sacked house elf is here—Crouch's house elf."

"Winky," said Moody softly. "Winky is here? Are you sure?"

Something in the tone of Moody's voice told Draco exactly who Moody was--under the polyjuice potion—young Barty Crouch. Very few people remembered their own house elves' names. Only Hermione remembered other people's house elves' names. Silently, the ferret darted along the floor and headed towards the dungeon.

"What was that?" said Moody, his magic eye swiveling to follow the progress of the ferret.

"I think it was Snape's ferret," replied Draco cooly. "I should get to class. I just wanted to tell you what I remembered, Sir."

"Certainly," said Moody in a distracted sort of way. "And young Malfoy—I hope that you harbor no angry feelings about the ferret incident."

"Oh, no sir, I don't." Said Draco, thinking I don't get angry; I just get even—

"We don't all need to turn out like our fathers, you know." 

"I intend to be better than my father," said Draco evenly.

"Good. Good," replied Moody, as Snape strode into the hall. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, Mr. Malfoy?" he reprimanded Draco. "I sent you back to herbology a good ten minutes ago—"

"Yes, Professor," said Draco. He nodded to Moody and hurried off to herbology. 

Later that day, there was a few minutes of unease when Rita Skeeter told him that Potter had a vision in Trelawney's class. By evening the rumors said that an Eagle owl played a prominent part in that vision. Malfoy wondered if Potter knew what kind of owl he had. Just to play it safe, he sent the owl home to Malfoy Manor with a message that the owl was sick and had to be quarantined from the owlry. 

The next day, Rita Skeeter's article appeared: HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS".

Right beside it was the article Draco had been waiting for: DRACO MALFOY: YOUNGEST WIZARD IN HISTORY TO GET APPARITION LICENSE.

Life was good.

==

"Draco, the Champions are to meet in the chamber off of the Great Hall after breakfast," said Professor Snape. 

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Sir." He really had no desire to meet with his family—his mother maybe, but certainly not his father. He had nothing to say to him. He should be proud, Draco thought angrily. He should be glad that his son was leading in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but no, he wanted him to lose. Perhaps he had placed a bet against him—like he really needed more money-- Draco bit his lip and pushed his food around his plate.

Fleur Delacour got up from the Ravenclaw table and went into the chamber. Then Cedric and Krum followed. Harry Potter was still sitting at the Gryffindor table. For just a moment, their eyes met, and then Cedric was sticking his head out of the chamber. "Hey Potter! Malfoy! Come on. They're waiting for you."

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. 

"Surprise!" said Mrs. Weasley excitedly "We thought we'd come and watch you Harry! She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

Draco glanced at his own parents who were talking sedately to one another in the corner opposite the Krum's. Draco imagined they were not at all excited to be associating with such a motley group. His father put his arm around Narcissia's waist and even Draco saw her stiffen. He grinned wickedly and turned away from his parents as if he hadn't seen them.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "Mr. Weasley." They both stared at him for a moment, and then they recovered their manners, but just barely. 

"Hello Draco," Mrs. Weasley said tightly. 

"Your parents are over there," said Mr. Weasley with a gesture to Lucius and Narcissia.

"Oh I know," replied Draco, hoping to stir up a little excitement. He remembered the last time Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had a "conversation" it had descended to fisticuffs. Narcissia had taunted him for weeks about it and refused to magic his black eye healed. Of course, it was all a cover up for his father putting Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny Weasley's transfiguration book, but neither Draco nor his mother knew that at the time, and his mother teased his father unmercifully. "Did you forget you had a WAND, dear? Must have been the association with those Granger muggles—pushed the thought of magic right out of your mind—"

Harry was shaking hands with Bill Weasley, and over Harry's shoulder Draco saw something that kicked his cunning Slytherin mind into overdrive. Fleur, the girl whose grandmother was a veela, was drooling over Bill Weasley. At least, thought Draco, he was probably the best of the Weasley's. His hair was slightly darker, auburn instead of that bright orange, and Bill attempted to add some fashion to the rags he called robes. "What sort of fang is that?" Draco asked indicating the fang earrings Bill was wearing. 

"Oh, dragon," said Bill. "Charlie thought I'd like them."

"Seems awfully small for a dragon," said Draco. 

"It was a baby," said Bill. "It died within a month after hatching. Charlie was devastated. It was the first nestling he had lost."

"I think someone else may like your earrings," said Draco indicating Fleur. "Or maybe she likes something else—"

As soon as Bill met her eyes, Fleur sent a wave of veela charm their direction. Draco immediately felt his mouth go slack and was walking towards her, steering Bill beside him, not that Bill needed any encouragement.

By the time they reached her, the shockwaves of the veela magic had worn down a little for Draco since Fleur had eyes only for Bill. Bill, however, looked totally entranced. 

"Fleur?" said Draco. His voice was soft and husky, infused with emotion. She looked at him like he was a slug, totally beneath her notice. With effort he tried to remove the frog from his throat and contain himself. "May I introduce, Bill Weasley," said Draco, tearing his eyes from Fleur. He found himself looking instead into the murky blue pits of ice that Fleur's mother called eyes. 

Draco had a sense of her talents, yet they were under strict control. "Your husband did not come to see Fleur in the tournament?" he asked in flawless French. 

"No," said her mother. "I do not have a husband. Veelas, even half veelas such as myself, find such relationships—confining."

"Would you like to meet my parents?" Draco asked smoothly taking her hand and leading her forward. Draco had expected to feel a jolt of her special power, but none came. "My father feels the same way. I wonder if he has any veela blood."

"Unlikely," said Fleur's mother brushing her silky blonde hair back. "Since your mother and father are still together." 

"Oh, well, that's just for appearances," Draco continued, still in French. "She hates him, but he is after all a Malfoy."

"And this being a Malfoy," asked Fleur's mother. "What does that mean?"

According to my father," said Draco, with a smirk, "It means that you are in strict control of your emotions at all times." He held eye contact with her for a moment longer than was necessary and the ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "Óf course, mother is the one who can appreciate a little joke—"

Switching back to English, Draco said, "Hello Mother. Father. I'd like you to meet Mrs. Delacour. She's Fleur's mother. Turning to his parents, he said, Narcissia and Lucius."

His mother smiled and held out her hand, which Mrs. Delacour acknowledged. Then she turned to his father. She spoke to him softly in French, and Lucius face colored ever so slightly. 

"Is she a veela?" Narcissia whispered to Draco.

"Half veela," said Draco.

"My good looks are only matched by my money," Lucius said pompously. "As a matter of fact, ask Draco. Last year I bought new Nimbus 2001's for the entire quiddich team."

"I thought you were buying Firebolts this year," said Draco encouragingly. 

Narcissia snorted with laughter.

"Oh yes, I am," agreed Lucius loudly. "I'm just waiting for the new Firebolt II. I'm sure it will come out before the autumn quiddich season. I've spoken to the CEO of the company about that. He's a personal friend, you know. Then once again I will buy the entire quiddich team the newest, latest brooms. Only the best for my son!" Lucius boomed.

Potter groaned. "New brooms," he muttered. "That's the only way Slytherin can win."

"Oh, no," said Lucius, glaring at Potter. "I have great faith in my son. He will beat you next year Harry Potter."

"Sure," said Harry dryly. "With all the Slytherins on new brooms and half the rest of the school on comet 260's how can he help winning. It's not much of an accomplishment, is it?"

"New brooms for everyone, then," announced Lucius happily. "Yes, new brooms for ALL of the Quiddich Teams!"

"Draco hung his head and groaned. "Do you want to go for a walk, Mother?"

"I think I'd better rescue your father," Narcissia said. "Before he gets on to topics that he shouldn't discuss, or decides to use our savings to redecorate Hogwarts."

"Or worse, gives Dumb-as-a-door a raise," laughed Draco.

"Well then," Narcissia started to move toward Lucius, but Draco stopped her, suddenly serious. "Mum. Why does Father want me to lose the Tri Wizard Tournament?"

"I don't know," said Narcissia. "Maybe he's changing his tactics. He always tells you to win at Quiddich 

and that hasn't worked, has it?"

Draco's face fell. "I thought _you_ at least had some faith in me," he whined.

"Of course I do Dear," said his mother with a quick grin. "I have faith in you to get exactly what you want. The question, Draco, is what do you want?"

A/N: Coming up next, the THIRD TASK. A bit more Moody, and of course, what is Draco going to do when he gets portkeyed to the Dark Lord—or do you think he should lose?

Please review. I'd love to hear your suggestions.

Lady Lestrange


	16. The Third Task

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

BY Lady Lestrange

DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowlings. Thanks JK.

****

THE THIRD TASK

After dinner, Pansy was waiting for Draco in the now deserted Slytherin Common room. "You said you would be down at seven o'clock," complained Pansy.

"Did you miss me?" He asked.

"No," she pouted, a slight blush coloring her sallow cheeks. "I just have better things to do than waiting around for you."

"I doubt it," said Draco.

With a huff, she turned away. "Forget it," she said as she headed for the Entrance Hall. "I don't want your omnoculors. I can see the Tri-Wizard Tournament without them."

"Ah, Pansy, don't be like that. I need your help."

"Why should I help you?" She asked, her eyes narrowing and her lip jutting out in a pout.

Draco moved closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He was already late for the third task. He didn't have time to argue with her or convince her. He just needed her compliance, and he was quite sure he knew the fastest way to win her over to his way of thinking. It was time to turn on the Draco Malfoy charm. "Why wouldn't you help me?" He asked softly, his lips now only a breath away from hers. He fought the urge to close his eyes. He needed to see her acquiesce to his will, and if he needed to kiss her to make that happen, so be it. As he gazed into her eyes he tried to ignore her pug face and concentrate on her soft and feminine body. "Pansy," he whispered. "Will you help me?" Just as his lips descended for a kiss, Pansy turned her head, and Draco found himself planting a chase kiss on Pansy's cheek.

"I'm not one of your conquests," she spat.

"Of course, you're not," Draco shot back. "You're my best friend."

"Best—" said Pansy shocked. "What about Vincent and Greg?"

"Pansy," he said sarcastically. "They only have one brain between them, and it's mine!"

She burst out laughing. "You'd better hurry. You're late. Give me the omnoculors, Draco. I know what to do with them." She paused and then planted a swift, hot kiss on his lips. "A kiss for luck," she said. "Go." She gave him a shove in the direction of the door.

Draco was nearly at the maze before he realized that he had forgotten to tell her that _luck had nothing to do with it._ He gathered his thoughts and fondled his wand in his pocket. Excitement coursed through him. He was going to win this thing. He was going to beat Harry Potter, and all the damn snitches that Potter beat him to would mean nothing—not after today.

==

Draco stood at the entrance to the maze and surveyed the stands. In the especially reserved front row, He saw Dumb-as-a-door and Professor Moody--or Barty Crouch--considering how you wanted to look at him. Moody had just rejoined Dumb-as a door. Professor Snape was approaching them. Draco knew why. Professor Snape wanted to see the results of the lack of polyjuice potion in Moody's bloodstream. Pansy was working her way through the crowd behind them. She shuffled several younger students out of their seats so that she could have a good view of Moody. While Draco watched, Moody took out his hip flask and took a long drink. Draco smiled. That meant that the polyjuice was due to run out soon. 

Severus Snape was hurrying to the quiddich stands. Draco knew that he had a specific seat that he wanted to procure for himself to see not the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament so much, as the end of the creature that was masquerading as Professor Moody. Snape finally settled himself in the row behind Moody and Dumbledore. Professors Sprout and Vector were seated just a few seats in front of them. Moody was standing and heading back toward the maze.

"What was he doing?" Draco wondered.

Snape also stood, and urged Moody to sit back down with Dumb-as-a door. After considerable discussion, Moody gave in and Snape headed for the maze. His cape as usual was billowing out behind him as he strode purposefully forward.

"Let's go, Draco," said Snape as he glided forward. "It's time for the task to begin."

"Aren't you going to watch?" Asked Draco.

"No," growled Snape. "I'm going to patrol the perimeter of the maze to see that there is no cheating. I hate to see Professor Moody clomping around on that wooden leg when his hip has been hurting him."

"How kind of you," said Draco with a sneer.

"Yes, it is. Isn't it," Snape answered back dryly. "I just hope Moody stays right there with Dumbledore."

Snape joined the other patrollers: McGonagall, Hagrid, and Flitwick. Draco heard Professor Snape explaining that Moody's leg was hurting him, and he had offered to take his place. McGonagall and Hagrid, both gave him quizzical looks and then continued to explain that if the Champions had trouble and needed to be rescued, they should send up red sparks from their wands. 

Just then, Ludo Bagman began his sonorus spell and announced the order of the champions. Draco would enter the maze first because he was already in first place. Next would be Potter and Diggory, tied for second place with eighty-five points, followed by Krum with eighty points, and finally, the beautiful Fleur Delacour.

"Last," thought Draco. "Why did Gagman, just say 'beautiful Fleur Delacour' like the tournament was a beauty contest instead of a test of wizarding skills. Ha! No one wanted the Veela to be last, but that's where she was. It just goes to show you that beauty cannot compete with brains." For some reason, he glanced up at the stands to see Pansy. Blaise had joined her, and waved at Draco when she saw him looking in their direction. Pansy did not look at him. Pansy had the omnoculor trained on Moody. Too bad Draco could not watch the little show that would soon be played out when Moody's polyjuice potion wore off.

++ 

Gagman gave a short blast on his whistle and the task had started. Draco sprinted into the maze, but stopped a few feet into it. It was very dark. Either it was enchanted to be dark, or it was just the towering shade of the hedges. Draco would have bet that it was enchanted. He lit his wand and wandered a few steps further into the maze. About fifty feet from the beginning he came to a fork. He took the right branch, went several more steps and extinguished the light from his wand. Then he waited. He heard Gagman's whistle blow. That meant that Potter and Diggory were in the maze. A moment later, Diggory came racing toward him. Draco raised his wand and breathed a spell. It was a whisper on the night air: **"Somnus!"** And Diggory dropped off to sleep right in the middle of the path. Although the spell should last at least an hour, Draco decided to be safe. He thought about sending up the sparks, but it was awfully early in the game to do that. He had a better plan. He blocked the pathway, by growing more of the hedges in front of Diggory, and then he continued on his way. He wished Potter had chosen the right path.

Another short blast on the whistle signified Krum entering the maze. For a moment, Draco contemplated waiting for Krum too, but he could hear Krum's footsteps retreating in the opposite direction. He too, had chosen the left path. Draco lit his wand and hurried forward. He knew he needed to go Northwest to the center of the maze. He looked up at the now visible stars and found constellations that he knew so well from his study of Astronomy: Pegasus, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, Draco of course or simply the North Star. Unfortunately, there was a blank hedge in front of him. He couldn't go Northwest, he had to choose North first and then hope for a west branch soon. 

He turned a corner and nearly ran into one of Hagrid's Blast end Skrewts. It was huge. It was at least twice the size of the one he had given Camilla for a Yuletide gift. Draco held his wand in front of him, ready. **"Imperio!"** He shouted. "You will follow me. You will not attack anything or anyone except on my order." Draco hesitated. Should he really take this thing with him, or should he just immobilize it? He didn't delude himself into thinking he could kill it without a particularly strong spell, like Avada Kedavra and of course that was illegal. It didn't bother Draco that imperio was illegal because the skrewt wasn't going to give evidence against him. On the other hand, a dead skrewt body without any blemishes except for a touch of green around it, pretty well indicated that Avada Kedavra was used. 

The skrewt followed him like an overly large puppy dog. All it needed was one of Hagrid's leashes for around its middle.

Draco hesitated. In front of him, at the next intersection, was a golden mist. It was obvious that it was some sort of enchantment, but he didn't recognize it. If he entered it, he might lose his concentration on the skrewt and that could be dangerous. Fortunately, the problem was solved as Fleur hurried from the opposite direction. She studied it for a moment, and then spoke "recindo!" to try to eliminate the enchantment. Unfortunately, that didn't work. Instead of dissolving the enchantment, it expanded it. Fleur was caught in the golden mist and swung in a complete circle. She screamed. It was obvious that Fleur was disoriented. She was standing with her feet now a little above the ground on the mist. Her hair was hanging upwards as if she was upside down. She was reaching pathetically with her hands. Draco waited for her to get out of the spell, but she didn't. In a few moments, Krum, having heard her scream, came to her rescue. Draco set the skrewt on him. Fleur, in a panic, sent up red sparks from her wand. She had quit.

Krum was hit with a blast of fire from the skrewt and screamed with the pain of the burns. Draco had really thought that Krum was a little better at magic. He had botched the shark transfiguration earlier in the tournament, but Draco had thought he could do a simple impedimenta charm to stop the skrewt. Shaking, Krum attempted another spell, but the skrewt was too close. Draco, jumped out from behind the hedges and performed an impedimenta charm. It slowed the skrewt down, but didn't stop it. "Stop, where you are," demanded Draco, pulling on the power of the imperio curse instead. The skrewt froze.

"You hav saved us," said Krum, shaking with the shock of his burns. "How can I effer repay you?"

"Quiddich World Cup Tickets?" Suggested Draco. "Front row—"

"Done," said Krum shakily. 

"Are you continuing?" asked Draco, eyeing Krum's burns. "You really look like you need Madam Pomfrey."

"Pleeze," said Krum. "Vil you send zee red sparks?

Draco took Krum's wand and sent a shower of red sparks into the air. "Well, then," said Draco. "I'm on my way."

"Good luck," Krum called after him.

As soon as Draco was out of view, he called the blast-ended skrewt back to him. "Just one more contestant to take down," thought Draco. "Potter."

Draco was picking his way carefully. He didn't want to run into any more blast ended skrewts without some advance warning.

Draco turned the corner and there, right in the maze was his father. His wand was out and trained on Draco. "You are such a disappointment to me, Draco." said Lucius. "When will you learn—"

"Father, I didn't mean to—I thought—"

****

"Crucio!" spat Lucius, and as soon as the curse was released from his wand—or rather as soon as it wasn't released from his wand, Draco realized that the thing in front of him was not his father. It was a boggart.

"**Ridikulous!"** shouted Draco, and the image of his father vanished. Draco tried to soothe his shaking muscles. He had tensed, expecting a real crucious curse, and the boggart's version of it was almost laughable. Draco sat down in the middle of the maze and took a few deep breaths.

This was exactly where Draco was when Harry Potter came upon him. 

"Malfoy!" shouted Potter. "Look out!"

Before Draco could turn to see what was behind him, Potter shouted **"Expecto patronum!"** and a stream of white smoke billowed out of his wand. The white smoke coalesced into a stag and charged at whatever was behind Draco. Draco followed it's progress as it attacked a dementer. The dementer tripped as it tried to run.

Draco gathered himself up and let Potter fight out his own fears with the boggart/dementer. He hurried forward, anxious to find and claim the Tri-Wizard Cup. He knew it wouldn't take Potter long to discover that his dementer was a boggart and then he would be right behind Draco. In his haste, Draco took a dead end and had to retrace his steps. He saw Potter in front of him speaking to a sphinx. She stepped aside and allowed him to pass.

Swearing loudly, Draco began to run. He was out of breath when he reached the Sphinx. 

It had the body of lion, a great golden lion with long claws, but the face was that of a woman. She had soft almond shaped eyes of a tawny gold and long brown hair that curled like the ruff of a mane. She was pacing from side to side, blocking his progress.

"May I pass?" Asked Draco, panting and holding his wand in front of him.

"Not unless you answer my riddle," said the Sphinx.

"Is there another way to the center of the maze?" asked Draco.

"Yes. But the quickest way is past me. You are very near your goal."

"Yes, yes," said Draco impatiently. "Just get on with it." But the sphinx appeared to have a set speech that she had to say.

"To pass me, you must answer my riddle. If you answer correctly on your first guess, I will let you pass. If you answer incorrectly, I attack. If you remain silent, I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

Draco nodded. "Will you repeat the riddle, or only say it once?"

"I will repeat it," said the sphinx.

"I'm ready," replied Draco. "Let's hear the riddle."

The sphinx sat back on her hind legs and recited:

It costs nothing to you if you give it to me

But never can mine be given to me.

You can give it to me but I can't give yours back

Although, I might give you mine to fulfill the lack

Tho' you can give it again and again

It is something that you can never lend

Something you keep, to keep a friend

For if it is broken, it will not mend.

More fragile than crystal. More precious than gold

It cannot be bought. It cannot be sold

It cannot be taken. Only given away.

And you'll have it still, to use another day.

"Hmmmm. Costs nothing? Costs nothing? Not bought. Not sold. Not taken. Can't be a physical object then--Must be some kind of quality…." Thought Draco. "Just a minute. I'll get it," he told the sphinx.

The sphinx just nodded and smiled at him.

"Can you repeat the middle part?" He asked. "The part that rhymes with mend . . ."

She repeated:

"Tho' you can give it again and again

It is something that you can never lend

Something you keep, to keep a friend.

And if it is broken, it will not mend."

"Let's see—something you give again and again. That's lots of things—not lend—give—" Draco bit his lip in concentration. He usually was pretty good at this sort of thing, especially if it was an object. "What could you give? He thought. "Love, hate—no those can't be broken—a curse?—no—That's not fragile—couldn't ok—broken—what could be broken? I'll come back to that," he thought. "Something you keep, to keep a friend. His mind skipped to Pansy—Ah—"

"I've got it," he said. And after he answered, the sphinx just smiled her enigmatic smile and moved to the side of the maze to let him pass.

__

(A/N: What? You expected me to tell you? Review and tell me your guess. I need to know if this was too hard. I will tell you the answer—next chapter or ten reviews from now. LL.)

Draco sprinted ahead. It was a straight line to the cup now, but Potter was ahead of him. Potter-- who beat him to every snitch at every Quiddich game. Draco poured on every bit of speed that was in his body, but Potter was still going to get there first.

Just then, out of no where, a giant spider appeared and attacked Potter. "Stupefy!" yelled Potter, but to no avail. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

"Honestly," thought Draco. "Is that the only spell he knows?"

Draco raised his wand to keep Potter from getting killed—he didn't want to win the Tournament by default—he wanted to beat Potter because he knew he was the better wizard. The hot breath of the blast ended skrewt distracted him. There was the big fellow, right at his feet.

"Attack the spider," said Draco. Immediately, the skrewt headed for the spider. Unfortunately, it's aim was not very good and Harry got a good dose of the sting along with what seemed to be a broken ankle from the spider. At last the spider was dead and Draco moved out of the shadows. The Tri wizard cup was his for the taking. He looked at Potter, unconscious beside the giant spider. He looked at his skrewt. He knew he should summon help, but first, he thought, the Cup.

Draco reached out and wrapped his hand around the handle of the Tri-Wizard Tournament Cup. Immediately, he felt a familiar tugging just behind his navel. The Cup was a portkey!

==

When Draco's feet touched the ground, he bent into a crouch and pulled out his wand. He had serious doubts that whatever was happening now had anything to do with the Tri-Wizard Tournament. No one had told him the cup was a portkey. 

"Hello, Mr. Potter," said a voice behind him. 

Draco whirled around the disarming spell on his lips as he moved. **"Expellaramus!"**

The wizard behind him lost his wand and slammed into a nearby tree. The bundle he was holding fell to the ground with a hard klunk.

Draco, wand still poised, surveyed the area. He eyed the gravestones—little Hengleton Graveyand—he surmised. He noticed the bubbling cauldron. It was huge. Draco, still scanning the horizon for others, spoke aloud. "Someone was planning a party for Potter," he sneered. "Figures. Potter gets a graveyard party. I get—" Draco sniffed. "A big pot of soup."

A low, growling laugh came from the bundle on the ground.

Slowly, with wand still drawn, Draco touched the bundle with his foot, knocking the blanket aside.

Red eyes stared out at him. "Hello, young Malfoy," said Voldemort. "You weren't invited."

"Oh, I guessed that," said Draco, surveying the helpless thing in the blanket. It was hairless and scaly, a dark raw, reddish black. "But I'm a Slytherin." Draco continued. "This isn't the first party I've crashed. Of course it might be the most auspicious company though." He sat down next to the blanket. "Lord Voldemort, I presume."

"Your father assured Wormtail that you'd be no trouble," said the voice from the blanket.

"Oh, I've always been trouble. It's in my blood," replied Draco carelessly.

"Your father also said that he would eliminate your little quest to win the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Yes, well. Just goes to show that father isn't always reliable," said Draco. "Terrible lack of communication—"

"I've had that problem with _my_ wizards for quite a while now," said Voldemort.

"About thirteen years, if I'm not mistaken." Draco stood and paced over to the bubbling cauldron. "I'd like to correct my mistake, if I could."

"Oh, I expect you to," answered Voldemort coldly.

"I assume there are some key ingredients missing from this potion."

"Yes," replied Voldemort. "Potter's blood."

"You know," said Draco. "I don't know who thought of this plan, but it's obvious you need a few Ravenclaw Death Eaters. I could have delivered Potter to you on September first if you had asked me to. I could have enchanted his quill on the first day, or his divination book— Trelawney would have loved it. She was always predicting Harry Potter's doom. There would be some ironic justice for him to disappear from her class."

Voldemort laughed. "Yes, Sybil always was predicting doom, even when she was a child. Of course, she did predict that a dark wizard would be vanquished by a babe—unfortunately I ignored that prediction"

**

(A/N: See Author's other story, Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth, for more information about Trelawney's prediction and lots of action—and lots of Draco--since this story is almost over—except for the hilarious lol last chapter and epilogue.)

**

"There were so many ways I could have gotten him to touch a portkey," said Draco. "I could have put the portkey enchantment on his potions book. Snape wouldn't have missed him. His owl's cage… His Firebolt…"

"Oh no," said Voldemort. "It wouldn't do for him to arrive on broomstick. I'm afraid I have enough trouble holding a wand with the body--A broomstick is out of the question. However, since you have so kindly volunteered your services, young Malfoy," sneered Voldemort. "I will expect to see Harry Potter here by tomorrow night—the same time will be fine."

"I'll do it, sir. I have an idea. Draco shared his plan with Voldemort.

"Well," he said, "If you can pull that off, it will be quite a feat. Your father never mentioned how resourceful you were."

"My father has no idea," drawled Draco.

"You should probably be getting back to Hogwarts then," suggested Voldemort. "If another champion reaches the center of the maze and realizes that you are missing—"

"Oh, they won't," Draco assured Voldemort. "I took care of all of them before I came."

"All of them?"

Draco nodded and headed toward the portkey. 

"Oh young Malfoy, would you wake Wormtail before you go? He's inept, but he is here, after all."

"Of course. said Draco, turning his wand on Wormtail. **"Enervate!"** he said, "And if you would, please call me Draco."

"Certainly—Draco. One other thing, you should know," Voldemort continued, his raspy voice cold in the night air. "You should know what will happen if you should fail—Cruci—"

"I won't fail," said Draco as he took hold of his Tri-Wizard Cup, which was also a portkey. He felt the heat of the crucious curse above his head, just as the familiar pull behind his navel took him away from Little Hengleton Graveyard and the Dark Lord.

++

REVIEW PLEASE: DO IT NOW.

ANSWERS TO MY REVIEWERS:

Marek-Malik-fangirl8 I'm glad you think this is VERY well written! Please read some of my other fics, now that this one is drawing to a close. Sorry Pritch couldn't be in Draco's pocket. Pritch is busy with Moody right now. Look forward to seeing him in the action packed finale. Harry crucioing Volde? Nah.

creativeguy18 Of course I'm going to continue it. It's almost finished. Granted, I was a little stumped trying to make this chapter funny, but it's done now.

Olivia Wood You hate waiting! I hate trying to figure out where I'm going to go with a story that's almost finished. You said: I really don't see how you intend to pull this off, but so far the story is really good and I have faith. I really think your faith in me helped me to stay with it. Thanks for reviewing.

Miakuluchi Thanks for the encouragement.

Nyki (Animebabe159@aol.com) I think Draco should get portkeyed to the Dark Lord. Thanks for the advice. I took it.

Padfoots Girl Thanks for saying: Anyway i love this story. (who wouldn't?) You are going to update this soon right? And apologies for taking so long to update. I was really stuck for a while.

Rei.K WE*jumps up and down in anticipation* This is by far THE best chapter yet—Really you think so? Wait until you see the next one. It's my favorite. I've had it written since the beginning of the story.

Miakuluchi I finally Updated.

MIforever Slytherins are the best. 

icybluesky You wrote: I loved your portrayal of Draco Malfoy, it seems so real, just as the way he behaved.:) I look forward to reading many more of your stories. :) Hope you enjoy them all.

Miakuluchi Draco Should definitely win! PLEASE! Draco won. Are you happy?

Miakuluchi You wrote: OOh,it's really good.You know it is very hard to find a interesting fic these days and this one is brilliant! THANK YOU THANK YOU.

smart-cookie I like how u made goyle and owen. Me too. Come and see what I did to Vincent Crabbe in Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth. 

Rei.K You wrote: A house elf?!!?!?! I would've never guessed, the thing he cared about most was a house elf!! Now you know why it was a house elf—Had to work Crouch's house elf in there. You wrote: Draco in boxers, M! *drools* so hot!! If you think Draco was hot in this story, he's even hotter in Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth. Promise. Come and read it, but first, REVIEW THIS ONE.

REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW.

If you have a fanfic, I'll review yours.

Tell me what you think the Sphinx's riddle is. 

If I get 10 reviews, I'll answer what the sphinx's riddle is in the next chapter.

Stay tuned. I should have the next chapter and the hilarious epilogue up on fanfic VERY shortly. 

In the meantime, if you are looking for a good read, try my epic: HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH. Rated PG-13, for violence and sexual innuendo, so it's a little racier than this story. It has funny moments, but not as funny as this one. Trust me. I'm a Slytherin. I don't do "sappy" and "sweet", and Draco plays a big part. –LL


	17. He's a Wicked Wizard

Disclaimer: All potterverse belongs to JK Rowlings.

****

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

By Lady Lestrange

HE'S A WICKED WIZARD

After an incredibly long and boring ceremony to award Draco his prize money, Draco finally headed to the Slytherin common room. He was exhausted and all he really wanted to do was sleep, but as he approached the entrance to the common room he realized that he was not going to sleep. He did a waking spell on himself, knowing that he would pay for it tomorrow, and entered the common room.

"There he is!" shouted Mort. He began singing the chorus of "_He's a Wicked Wizard_, a popular tune by the Weird Sisters, and was joined by half of the occupants of the common room. The other half was either otherwise engaged with members of the opposite sex, or in no condition to sing."

Camilla wiggled her way between Draco and Mort. She wrapped her arms around him, cooing, "I do hope you didn't expect me to keep the blast ended skrewt," she said. "The Sanctuary for Rare and Extinct Magical Creatures made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Did you know that Hagrid _created_ that species?"

"Of course, I knew," said Draco.

"I still want a ferret," she whispered seductively, as she pressed herself against him. Draco realized that she either had nothing or very minimal clothes on under her robes. Draco caught Mort's smug grin over Camilla's shoulder. He gestured toward Pritch, and Draco turned Camilla in his arms. 

"There's someone I want you to meet," he said, "Hey, Pritch!" he called.

Owen Pritchard began working his way across the crowded common room. Pansy was by his side with the omnoculars in her hand. It wasn't until Pansy was next to him that he realized she held her wand in her other hand. "Camilla," she whispered. "The clasps on your robe have come undone."

Camilla swore and wrapped the cloth around herself as she hurried from the common room. 

"Ah, Pansy," scolded Mort. "That was mean."

"So." Said Pansy. "Where do you want to watch this?" she asked Draco, as she held up the omnoculars. "It's priceless."

"Right here," said Draco. He clapped his hands and then pointed his wand at his throat. "Sonorus," he said. "May I have your attention.? It's home movie time!"

The Slytherins clustered around as Mort transfigured the wall behind them into a scrying material. He placed the omnoculars at the edge of it, and pronounced the spell to begin the show.

__

Dumbledore was leaning close to Moody talking to him about the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Why are we watching Dumb-as-a-door?" complained Millicent.

"We're not," said Pansy. "We're watching Moody."

"This is boring," said Blaise, who went back to snuggling with one of the sixth year boys.

__

Within seconds it was obvious that Moody was changing, but Moody didn't seem to know it yet. He was still deep in conversation with Dumb-as-a-door. Contrary to his Slytherin nickname, Dumbledore wasn't too dumb. He realized that the person he was talking to wasn't Moody and he already had his wand out. As Moody shifted in his seat to see the Tournament, his wooden leg fell with a klunk. 

"Oh," said Moody, as he pulled his wand.

"Don't," said Dumbledore. This Dumbledore was someone that Draco almost could have respected. His eyes were flashing fire at having been deceived for the whole year, and his wand was trained on Moody/Crouch.

Moody leaned forward as if to pick up his leg and his magical eye fell out of his head as his real eye grew behind it. It rolled down the bench and dropped onto the next seat, continuing to roll it fell under the benches. Moody, at last realizing what was happening, continued to fall forward too, and dropped down behind the seat, changing into his animagus form as he moved. Dumbledore threw a quick spell, but he was too late. There was a flash of gray as a squirrel darted under the seats, and immediately another furry creature followed him. Draco recognized the flash of white as Pritch's ferret.

__

Dumbledore stood, searching for the two animals and there were cries of annoyance from the Tri-Wizard Cup viewers as Dumbledore blocked their view of the maze—not that they could see much anyway. Dumbledore climbed down from the bleachers and looked this way and that for the animals. Apparently, Pansy also momentarily lost sight of them, because the view from the omnoculors was not of the animals. It was of Dumbledore. Suddenly, a white ferret scampered up Dumbledore's robes and deposited a bloody squirrel in Dumbledore's arms. Dumbledore's immaculate robes were stained with tiny footprints and blood. The squirrel was not dead, but he was definitely beaten. Then the omnoculars followed the white ferret as he searched under the stands. He finally reappeared, and the scrying went blank. 

Most of the Slytherins went back to their partying.

"Well, Pritch," said Draco. "Where's the eye?"

"Ah, Draco. It's mine. I found it." Whined Pritch.

Draco leaned close and whispered. "Trade you the Magical eye for an Invisibility cloak." Draco pulled the keys to Moody's trunk from his pocket and dangled them under Pritch's nose. 

"You've always wanted an Invisibility cloak," said Pritch. "Why would you do that?"

Draco shrugged. "I could use your help with a charm. Anyway, I'm going to get Potter's cloak. You can have Crouch's"

"Potters?" said Pritch. 

"Yeah. Let's go," said Draco. "I want to get finished with this. I have to talk to Dumbledore in the morning, and it's already late."

"Dumbledore? About what?" asked Pritch as they headed out of the common room and began climbing the stairs toward Moody/Crouch's room. 

"Quiddich," said Draco.

"Did I miss something while I was a ferret?" asked Pritch. "I can see why Crabbe and Goyle are always three steps behind you, Draco."

"Draco," called Pansy "Can we come too?" She and Mort were hurrying to catch up.

Draco shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Where are we going?" asked Mort.

"To raid a treasure chest," answered Pritch.

Once they got into Moody's room and opened the trunk, they divided up the contents as best they could. Pritch got the Invisibility Cloak. Mort and Pritch wanted some of the dark wizard detectors. Pansy took a very ornate sneek-o-scope and Draco took only a plain blank parchment. 

"Why do you want that?" asked Pansy. 

"You'll see," Draco promised.

The only thing that caused them a bit of a stir was the last lock. When they found the real Moody at the bottom of the trunk, they were unsure of what to do. None of them just wanted to release the auror. "Well," said Draco. "Will they even find him without the keys to the trunk?" wondered Draco.

"Maybe not," agreed Mort as they shut the trunk, locked it and left the room.

"So what are you going to do with the keys?" asked Pritch. 

Draco shrugged. "I'm sure Snape will ask for them eventually."

"But he'll know we ransacked it," said Mort.

"Of course," said Draco, "But we left him Moody, didn't we?"

Pritch grinned as they entered the common room. "And we gave him the 'bone of hippogrift' too," said Pritch.

Draco laughed. "I'm sure the Dark Lord will be pleased with Snape—delivering the bodies of an auror and the Minister's right hand man--"

"What?" said Mort.

"Who?" said Pansy.

"Oh, right. I have to fill you in. The Tri-wizard cup was a portkey—" he began. "Guess who's back? Well, it's a long story—It'll keep 'till tomorrow." Draco stretched, and lounged back on one of the common room sofas. "I should go to bed," he muttered as he kicked off his shoes. The effects of the waking spell he had done earlier in the evening were starting to wear off. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, as the die-hard partygoers continued to—well—party. 

He heard Camilla's indignant screech as someone dared Pritch, the ferret, to climb up the _inside_ of her robes, and Mort's uproarous laughter. The clinking of knuts and sickles exchanging hands as bets were collected on whether or not Pritch would do it. Someone complaining about spilt butter beer. Someone snoring. Someone giggling. Draco smiled. Life was good. 

He had almost dozed off as he felt someone join him on the sofa. Large, capable hands began to rub his feet. 

"Mmm--Tully?" he murmured.

"No. Pansy," said a soft feminine voice.

Lazily, he opened his eyes. The Slytherin Common room was almost deserted. Goyle lay passed out on one of the sofas and two of the older Slytherins were engrossed in each other at the other end of the common room. 

Draco looked at Pansy. She looked tired too. Her hair had fallen loose from it's clasp and was hanging around her face like a dark halo. Her soft pink robes were smudged with the dirt of the bleachers where she had crawled around trying to keep Moody/Crouch in the omnoculars. She looked awful in pink. Purple would be better, he thought. Or maybe russet—Something vivid instead of pastel—Pastel did not suit her.

Pansy realized that he was looking at her and stopped rubbing his feet, her wide puppy eyes meeting his smoky gray ones. "What is it?" she asked.

Without saying a word, he shifted over on the sofa and leaned in to kiss her. 

"Draco, I'm not—" she began, but her words were smothered by his kiss.

He should have done this long ago, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her and twined his hands in her thick brown hair. At last, he felt her soften and melt into him—Her voluptuous breasts pressed against him and her long, strong fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss. A long sigh escaped her parted lips. "This won't change our friendship," she said vehemently.

"No," said Draco softly as he kneaded her tightly corded neck muscles. his face buried in her hair. He had expected a hint of perfume, but there was none, only the scent of grass and leaves and the outdoors, an uncomplicated scent, that was undeniably Pansy.

"Draco?"

"Yes."

"Are you giving _me _a massage?"

"I'll deny it to my dying breath," he said. "Even under imperio—"

Pansy chuckled. "I thought so," she said as she lifted her face for his kiss.

==

Morning came too soon.

Last night, Draco had charmed the blankets to jostle him awake at 7:00 am. On a Saturday. He must be mad. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, trying to remember why he wanted to get up so early. Oh, yes. Dumbledore and quiddich.

Draco roused Vincent and Greg, got ready for the day, and went up to breakfast. Vincent and Greg complained the whole way to the Great Hall. When he got there, Draco spotted the rest of the Slytherin Quiddich team. They were always up early, even though there had been no practices. Some habits are hard to break, and Draco knew the team went flying together often, even though Dumbledore had cancelled Quiddich this year. He thought that the other Quiddich teams probably had similar habits. He was right.

After he aired his suggestion to the Slytherin team, he and the team took it to Ravenclaw and then Hufflepuff and finally Gryffindor. As a united front, they approached Dumbledore. Harry Potter was his greatest advocate. 

"Professor Dumbledore," Potter said. "We've not had any Quiddich games all year. It's been all right for Draco and Cedric and me, we had the tasks to think about, but for the rest of the team, it's been hard. Please, couldn't we just have a few little games just for fun—not for a cup or anything—"

"Please," Cedric added. "We thought we could play Ravenclaw—maybe next week."

"I'm ready to take on Potter today," sneered Draco. "What do you say, Potter?"

"Any day, Malfoy," said Potter. "Are you in a hurry to lose?"

"Boys!" commanded Dumbledore. "I haven't said there would _be_ a Quiddich game. The Quiddich pitch is still set up for the Tri Wizard Tournament."

"We could take it down," Draco volunteered. 

"If we all worked together," Potter added.

"Yes," said Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. "Please."

"Naturally," said Dumbledore, "I can't stand in the way of all four houses working together on a project. If you can dismantle the Tri Wizard Tournament maze, you can certainly have your Quiddich game."

"7:00 tonight, Potter," said Draco. "Be ready."

"More than ready," replied Potter.

Word spread like wild fire. _Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quiddich match tonight at the Quiddich Pitch._ But first, everyone was expected to help remove the Tri Wizard Tournament spells and turn the maze back into the Quiddich Pitch. The project did not lack for helpers. 

==

7:00 o'clock found the Gryfindor and Sytherin Quiddich teams facing off in a grudge match that had been contained all year. The stands were filled and over-flowing. The teams were anxious to begin.

Draco had just a moment of fear as Madam Hooch opened the case that held the Quiddich balls. She reached into the case and released them one at a time. The Quaffle is up—the game had begun. The other players darted forward and Slytherin immediately gained possession. 

"Slytherin in possession, the cheating—" droned Lee Jordon.

Draco flew in a lazy circle above the game, his eyes darting here and there as if looking for the snitch, but it was way too early to catch it. He watched Potter instead. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, soon to be the boy who died. The sun was glinting off of his perpetually messy hair. Flying of course only made it worse. It stuck up at all angles. Draco unconsciously smoothed his own hair down. 

"Potter has seen the snitch," cried Jordan.

All of the sudden, Potter was in a dive. "No!" thought Draco. "It was way too early in the game." Draco shot after him, but he was too far away. 

"Bloody hell. Potter was going to catch the snitch only moments into the game and he was too far away to knock him off of his broom. 

Everything was at stake. Draco clung to his broom, trying to eliminate wind resistance—trying to get every ounce of speed out of the Nimbus, but it just wasn't broom enough to keep up with the Firebolt. 

Warrington smacked a bludger in Potter's direction and Potter swerved. Just enough time for Zambini to pass the Quaffle to Nott. Nott miscalculated and the quaffle dropped several feet before Warrington darted forward and smacked the Quaffle with his bludger bat. It careened into Potter, and Harry who had almost been unseated by the previous bludger, tumbled forward on his broom, losing control. 

Draco was there beside him, giving him a hard push, not off the broom, but back onto it.

Boos erupted from the Gryffindors and calls of foul. 

Only Harry seemed to know that Draco hadn't tried to knock him off, but had put him back on his broom after Warrington's move.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted.

"I don't need to win by default," shouted Draco. "You're going down, Potter. You can just kiss your mudblood friends good bye."

In the confusion, the golden snitch had disappeared.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Angelina took the foul shot for Gryffindor. The score was 10-10.

Lee Jordon's whiny voice was protesting once again that Slytherin was in possession of the Quaffle. The score had grown to 30-10 in favor of Slytherin. Draco sighed as he listened to the commentary. Honestly, if the boy couldn't commentate his way out of the toilet, then the auspicious Dumb-as-door should replace him thought Draco. Who cared if he thought Angelina was hot.

And Slytherin scores! The score was now 40-10.

Draco began shadowing Potter. 

Even with the renouned Firebolt, Potter was having trouble losing Draco. It was starting to get on Potter's nerves. "Good," thought Draco. 

"Can't find the snitch on your own, Malfoy?" ridiculed Potter. "Or won't Daddy buy you a broom that will keep up?"

Malfoy wheeled around and brushed Potter's face with the tail of his broom. 

Potter had to maneuver to avoid crashing into him, and just then, Draco spotted the golden snitch just below them, several feet from the ground. Perfect, he thought. 

Potter saw it too, and immediately went into a dive. Potter had the faster broom and Draco was facing the wrong way. With a wild jerk, Draco pivoted the broom and dropped after Potter.

Timing is everything, thought Draco as indeed time seemed to stand still as he plummeted after Potter. This was it. The moment he had waited for. Easy. Timing. Timing….

He laid his hands on the tail of Potter's broom, just as he had once before, but this time, he didn't hold Potter back. Just a bit more….A bit more. ….Potter's hand was reaching. . . Potter's hand was over the snitch and closing. Draco yanked on the back of Potter's broom. "**Decresco**," he whispered. He had the Firebolt, right out from under Potter's ass.

Lee Jordon's ecstatic commentary was screaming in Draco's ears: "Potter has seen the snitch. Potter is racing…The Firebolt is just too much broom for Malfoy…He's trying to hold Potter back Malfoy's hand is on Potter's broom. . . but not this time Malfoy. . . . Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wi---"

Lee Jordon's voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "He's disappeared. Harry Potter has just disappeared!"

After Draco did a shrinking spell on the Firebolt and put it in his pocket, he looked around feigning confusion. He fondled the miniature splints of Potter's broomstick,and smirked. To everyone it looked like Potter and his Firebolt had disappeared. Draco wondered how long it would take Dumb-as-a-door to figure out that the snitch was a portkey. Of course there was no way that he could have tampered with it. The quiddich balls, including the snitch, were under lock and key and spells all year.

While the Gryffindor's bemoaned the disappearance of Saint Potter, the Slytherin team headed to the showers. As Draco past the equipment cupboard, he inched the door open with his toe. No one noticed that a small ferret scrambled up his robes and into his pocket.

Once they were out of sight of the other students, Pritch transformed back into a student.

"Did it work?" Pritch asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course it worked. Let's go raid Potter's room." 

"Do you have the Invisibility Cloak?" Pritch asked Draco.

"Pansy's bringing it," said Draco. "Here she comes now." 

"Why can't I come with you?" Pansy pouted.

"Because you have to be the look out," replied Draco, "And here, take care of my Firebolt." Draco handed her the tiny broomstick. 

"You got it," she said amazed. 

"Pansy. Was there ever any doubt?" 

"And the Gryffindor password?" asked Pritch. "Is it still 'Fairy Lights'?"

"Oh no," said Draco with a grin. "It's 'Hogwarts' Victory'. Named for my Tri Wizard Cup Victory."

"What if someone is in the common room, or in Potter's dorm?" asked Pritch.

"Are you kidding? They're clustered around the Quiddich pitch looking for signs of Harry Potter. Anyway that's what the Invisibility Cloak is for—"

Moments later, they exited Gryffindor Tower with a second Invisibility Cloak--Harry Potter's."

++

The pitiful excuse for a body, which Dark Lord claimed, was settled in his blanket under the Yew tree that stood in the graveyard where his father was buried. Wormtail, one of the few faithful wizards, stood nearby, mounted on his broom. Unfortunately, Wormtail was not a very good flyer. If the portkey worked, and young Malfoy was true to his word then Voldemort expected Harry Potter to appear shortly right in front of his father's gravestone, near the cauldron which was already bubbling merrily with the beginnings of the potion. Unfortunately, Voldemort couldn't see how Harry would arrive broken and ready to begin to fulfill his part in the life saving potion. Harry, arriving on a broomstick, would not serve, because Voldemort had serious doubts as to whether or not Wormtail could catch Harry Potter. 

Draco however, assuaged Voldemort's doubts with promises that if he didn't knock Potter off of his broom just before he caught the snitch, he would use a second portkey to follow him and catch him. 

As the Dark Lord was mulling over these thoughts, the place near the gravestone glowed with the light of a portkey opening and Harry Potter dropped from several feet above the ground to lie in a crumpled heap on Tom Riddle's grave. The impact jarred the golden snitch loose from his hand, and a broomless Potter watched his portkey, and his only means of exiting this place, flutter into the evening sky.

"So nice of you to drop in," said a squeaky rat-like voice. Seconds later, rope-like bounds flew out of the wizard's wand and bound Harry tightly to a gravestone.

"Wormtail!" shouted Harry in desperation. "I saved your life once. Please—"

"Only once?" said Wormtail. "I'm afraid that the Dark Lord has saved my life daily. Nagini wants to eat me for breakfast everytime she sees me. So, you see where my loyalties must lie, Harry."

++

You know what happens from here—

Stay tuned for the lol epilogue.

If you are looking for a new fic to read, try my other story, HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH. (You can't expect it to be sappy and sweet, do you. I've just killed off Harry Potter in this fic, for gosh sakes!)

And my name is—

Lady Lestrange—

You know me—

"The Dark Lord will rise again…Throw us into Askaban : we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us. He will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him. . . "—JKR

Please read HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH. You will like it. Promise.

Hot Draco there too—

****

ANSWER TO THE SPHINX RIDDLE: Your Word

==


	18. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied.

DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

BY Lady Lestrange

Epilogue

Because I'm sure you want to know just what happened to everyone after the Tri Wizard Tournament was over, here's the update.

We know of course that Harry Potter died a very valiant death at the hands of the Dark Lord and he is now in the company of his dear mudblood mother—er no—that's not right. He has remained at Hogwarts as a ghost companion to none other than Moaning Myrtle, although her moaning has taken on a slightly different sound—at last poor Harry has found true love! Dumbledore has now added the following announcements to the 'forbidden' list at the beginning of each year. The following bathrooms are closed until further notice: Girl's second floor. Girl's fourth floor. Boy's First floor. Boy's Third floor. AND ALL PREFECT'S BATHROOMS. Snape has suggested that next year's Hogwarts letters tell the first years to bring a port-a-potty.

Draco, of course, took his father's place at the right hand of the Dark Lord. He brought several people with him including Pansy, Mort and his pet ferret. Some people have speculated that Draco is the Dark Lord's heir, because Draco has taken over so much of the day to day running of the Death Eaters affairs. Draco smirked. "Of course not. Don't you remember? The Dark Lord is immortal. LordVoldemort is the wizard-who-lived?"

Lord Voldemort, on the other hand, is paying less and less attention to details at home. Rumor has it that, due to Draco's excellent management skills, he and Lucius have been spending a lot of time in France at the Delacour Mansion. When Draco was asked about this turn of affairs, Draco shrugged. "They're just lucky I guess." He said. Again, his cool smile does not give a hint of his thoughts.

Narcissa Malfoy could not immediately be reached for comment about her husband's long absences, but we finally caught up with her on her yacht in the Mediterranean. She and Ludo Bagman, formerly of the Ministry of Magic, were target practicing with live goblins. "My son always gets what he wants. She said mysteriously. "He takes after his mother in that respect—"

I want to let the readers know that my colleague, Rita Skeeter is no longer with the Daily Prophet—or Witch Weekly. In fact she is no longer with us—period. She was not a witch after all—she never was. She is an alien. The Men in Black (not to be confused with Snape)hog—um—bug tied her and sent her home.

Unfortunately the Hermione/ Krum romance didn't work out. You know that he had a thing for younger women. Well once he saw Fleur's little sister, it was all over with Hermione. They ran away to Bulgaria together—or perhaps he kidnapped her at wandpoint; no one is sure. In any case, they stayed together for a few years. Once She was old enough to exercise her veela powers, she realized she didn't want to stay with the aging Krum, so she took his Quiddich money and ran off with the new seeker from the Chudley Cannons. Yum.

Hermione, heartbroken, over both Harry and Krum, cried on Ron's shoulder for a while. You expected that right? However, Ron, being Ron, said. "Hermione! Snap out of it! Go to the library or something." So she did. While she was there, she discovered an ancient text called Most Potente Love Potions. So Hermione, being the bright girl she is, brewed a new love potion, and thought of—Ron?

While she was reading, she found a section called "Anti-love potions". The text read: "Guaranteed to keep the opposite sex from attacking you. Disguises as much as eighty percent of your natural charisma." On the page were notes to double the potion and crossed out notes to triple and quadruple the potion. All of the notes were in a spidery hand that she recognized from somewhere. When she got to the end of the potion, she realized whose handwriting had made notes in the book.

She read: "Do not drink. Instead apply this potion liberally to the hair after showering. Your problems with members of the opposite sex mauling you will be over." Snape? She thought. "What do you _really_ look like under all that potion?" HMMMM. We know, don't we fanfic fans?

Dream on, Hermione, because we all know that you marry Ron and have 14 kids, enough to field not one, but two quiddich teams! They all have bushy red hair and freckles. Sorry, none of them were blessed with your brains.

Fleur went to Egypt to visit Bill but he complained that he could never go anywhere alone with her. Aside from her chaperone, she brought a dozen attendants and people always were accosting her on the street. Bill was getting disgusted with the whole thing, when Charlie invited them to visit Romania for a while. He suggested a holiday in the wilds of Romania, near the Dragon Caves. It sounded like a good idea. Unfortunately—or fortunately—During a tour, one of the empty dragon caves collapsed due fire breathing eroding the wooden supports and both Bill and Fleur were trapped inside. The entire wizarding world was in an uproar until Molly Weasley send a letter to the ministry. Apparently she got a tiny owl out of the rubble. Little Pig managed to fly out of a crack in the caved in cave to the Burrow to inform the Weasley's that Bill was alive well and never feeling better. In fact his specific request was, 'Tell the wizards digging us out, to dig slower.

Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory got married on Valentine's Day. They have no children because are rarely in the same country together. Cho is still working on her Auror's Doctorate Degree and Cedric was accepted to take Krum's place on the Bulgarian Quiddich team. Unfortunately Bulgaria hasn't won a game since. Well, Cedric, maybe if the seeker on the other team falls off of his broom—

Lee Jordan is the official announcer for England, and as far as I know still has the hots for Angelina who plays chaser for England now. "Those lying, cheating Bulgarians—no—not you Cedric—"

Lupin fell in love with Darla, and –opps—no. Wrong story. You'll have to read my fanfic, **_Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth_** to meet Darla.

Dumb-as-a-door, begins another year at Hogwarts with the inspiring words: "Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak." And we're still waiting to hear the joke about the troll, the hag and the leprechaun who went into the bar—(If anyone knows the joke, please post it in a review)

And Sirius Black, alias Snuffles, was last seen on the grounds, chewing a rather meatless bone. When I asked Hagrid if he knew what kind of animal could have a bone that looks like that. He answered unhesitatingly. "Bone of Hyppogrift-- Professor Snape told me."

(A/N: REVIEW. Right this minute. Review. If you have a fanfic, I will return the favor.

ANSWERS TO REVIEWS:

FALLEN ANGEL OF DARKNESS: I did update Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth. Looking forward to your next review. Sorry I didn't put in more Fleur. Maybe next fic.

OLIVIA: Here's my explanation about Lucius knowing Voldemort's plan. I know he doesn't know anything about Voldemort's rebirth in JKR's story, but when Draco joined the Tri-Wizard Tournament, that changed things. I thought at first, Moody/Crouch wouldn't be concerned, but when Draco beat everyone so soundly in the first task, he had to tell Voldemort. Who, via Wormtail, send a cryptic message to Lucius to tell Draco to lose, which Lucius did. Lucius isn't stupid. He knew that cryptic messages like that could only come from the Dark Lord or one of his messengers. Anyway, the Dark Mark on his arm has been getting darker all year. Lucius sends the owl back, saying he'll take care of Draco and make sure he knows to lose. Draco doesn't listen. I don't think Lucius knows everything. That's why he wasn't more insistant about Draco losing.

Rei K. A hotter Draco? Yeah, I'd say so, in Harry Potter and the Seers' Truth, but you have to wait for a while for him to show up. I've toned it down to keep it PG-13.

Miakuluchi: Glad you like my Draco. Read my other fics. I don't have an ICQ, but I have an AOL screenname. It's carmandoogle That's not my name. It's the name of a character.

SPHINX RIDDLE: Your Word

Finally to all of you people who asked if I could send the answer to the Sphinx Riddle to you via email—NO. Here's the answer though—Some of you wrote, a promise or a secret. Very close. It is "your word"

Which if you remember, Pansy, in talking about the Yule Ball said, "You wouldn't break your word, Draco. Not when you promised in front of the whole of Slytherin house—"

I guess I'll put the answer in the story now, although I'm still not sure if it was too hard—

Thanks for all of your input—your reviews—your moral support—

LOVE YOU ALL. HOPE TO SEE YOUR NAMES SOON UNDER REVIEW OF

HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH.

I have 2 other ideas for funny stories. One is what various people see in the Mirror of Eisrid. Another is what if Sirius the dog was caught by the Dursley's and sent to the dogcatcher at the beginning of Prisoner of Askaban? I have to toy with it for a while and see which, if either one will stay funny. Be patient. Read my other fics.

Lady Lestrange


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